Life After Wartime
by Ukitsu43
Summary: The War of the Ring took a little of something from everyone. Rodwen, orphaned by it, burdened with the care of a sister and shackled by the man charged with caring for her is caught between a rock and hard place. She begins to serve Lady Arwen. It is through her job as servant that she meets Legolas, a ray of hope for escape from her afflicted world. Warning:lemons, rape, violence
1. Lesson 1- Drudgery

**Authoress Chat:**** I'm back. I finally found the time to start some new writing. It's exciting for me because I haven't begun anything new in two years. This story is more mature and it may not be the way you imagine Middle-earth. Still, expect to come across hard subject matter. So, without further ado, I present this fiction to you, hoping that you'll keep an open mind. **

**Lesson One- Drudgery**

In the time after the War of the Ring, Minas Tirith enjoyed a time of unprecedented peace. The pains taken to rebuild all of what had been broken seemed somehow worth it in light of the glorious coronation of their long displaced King. King Elessar no longer looked the ranger's part. Rather, he looked like some shining beacon, the embodiment of the finest qualities of the race of Man. And then there were the Elves…

Rodwen stood in the crowd, holding her little sister's shoulders tightly. It had been a rough year for them. In the war, she had quickly lost both parents, in circumstances fitting only for Orcs. And now she wished that she could die. She doubted she would find the resolve to live were it not for her younger sibling. But the pain she felt, how she felt herself dying just knowing that she couldn't leave her sister to someone else's care…that was truly grim.

Her father had left them some money to live off of. Rodwen had been sure to use what she had access to to dress her little sister, Mellwen. Mellwen was dressed in a summery pink dress with a white and pink laced bodice. Over top of her long deep brown hair, Rodwen had placed a white scarf, held in place by a silver droplet. Rodwen had dressed herself in a maroon ensemble with gold laces winding up the front. Around her shoulders was a dark brown cloak with a lining and collar of mink, held in place by a golden broach. Her own dark hair was parted into two pigtails and plaited. And then there was her guardian, the dark and menacing Fuinron.

Fuinron had been instructed in her father's will to care for the two girls. Mellwen being only ten and Rodwen being a meager sixteen, it was a sound decision. He had known all of them practically since her father married her mother. He drawn swords with her father for the army of Gondor. He was the perfect choice to maintain what was left, he being a mighty, towering man. His hair was salt and pepper with age, his eyes a cold shade of brown, with the left eye displaying an old poorly healed scrape starting above his eyebrow and extending to the side of his eye. He wore a black tunic with leather arm guards. His leggings were dark grey and his leather boots came up to his knees. He looked sturdy, stately, and intimidating.

White petals fell from the high towers onto the citizens. Rodwen still held onto her sister tightly. Mellwen had her hands stretched out in reverence, watching the petals slip through her fingers. This moment must have seemed like magic to her. Rodwen watched as a company of Elves came walking up to meet the newly crowned King. They seemed to stand like the last of a sweet blessing over Middle-earth. To Rodwen, the flowers only seemed to mask the true ugliness of what had happened here. It was like pouring honey over a gaping wound…and to have the Elves marching up to their newfound King like some mystical emissaries made her blood boil.

She saw a blonde elf-woman dressed from head to toe in white. She had diamonds and pearls in her hair and a slight smile. She was looking around to everyone and yet no one and just when Rodwen wanted to tell her where in all Arda she could go, the woman seemed to look directly at and into her. An echoing whisper sounded in her head. 'You are too young to look so serious. Ease yourself, you are hurting the child.' She smiled wider and then faced forward, towards King Elessar.

"I'm sorry, Mellwen. Are you having a good time?"

She looked up at her sister with eyes of innocence.

"I'm sleepy, Rodwen. Can we go home?"

Rodwen's throat seized up as she looked over at Fuinron. She leaned down and kissed her sister gently.

"In a little while. We would be rude to walk out on a wedding before it concluded," she said reluctantly. She felt a bit ashamed to be the only glowering face in the crowd. She felt even worse to have an Elf chastise her…in her mind!

Her eyes fell on the Elf maiden carrying a banner with the symbol of Gondor sown into it. The woman was absolutely beauteous in a way that could haunt. She was dark haired and her skin was pale like moonlight. She fell into the King's arms and she could see the pure elation in those around her. Finally she couldn't take it anymore. Turning her head towards Fuinron, she began to speak to him, making sure not to make direct eye contact with him.

"I'm taking Mellwen home," she stated bluntly.

His eyes looked down on her in a way she could feel, compelling her to meet his gaze.

"You shouldn't leave without me. I intend to speak to the King about my service. I want you to be a royal attendant. How else can I recommend someone for a position? This is important."

That bottled rage and terror came up at once. She had to clench her teeth together to stop from whimpering like a child. What could she do against his might? He alternative to his offer was an unbearable choice. To serve a high ranking citizen would give her and her sister some safety outside the walls of their home. Mellwen would just have to suffer the sleepiness.

"May I at least escort her home and return? She's tired…"

"You have my answer. Return to your silence."

She turned away and bit her lip, closing her eyes tightly.

'That elf-witch! What does she know about losses?'

/ / /

Rodwen, Mellwen and Fuinron stayed in the upper ring of the city for quite a long time. They, as long established and well-respected citizens, were openly invited to attend a court with His majesty. Mellwen had been cranky from a distinct lack of sleep, partly because she was haunted still by dreams of frightful times, but mostly due to her excitement.

When Fuinron finally got the chance to speak before his Lord, Rodwen took the opportunity to find a solemn corner nearby. On a bench, she sat, leaning back on the wall to better cradle her sister's tired form. As sleep was quick to overcome her sister, Rodwen was left with a great deal of thinking time. An odd person here or there had acknowledged her presence, but most had seen the girl in her lap. To an unfamiliar observer, it may have seemed that the little girl could be her child and nobody was going to try and interrupt an intimate moment.

Rodwen tried to imagine what it would be like to wait on a Lady. She imagined it in her mind as similar to her duty as an obedient daughter and now as the only mother figure of a prepubescent child. She could do this, if it would offer her some peace of mind. She just had to remind herself of her purpose. If she forgot, she would be ruined. She rubbed Mellwen's head before resting her chin on it.

'But why did he even offer? Why would he agree to do this for me, for us…knowing this goes against his will?'

She didn't have long to reflect on that particular question, for Fuinron came back, smiling at her.

"Come, Lady Rodwen. The Queen would like to meet you. She will survey you for qualities that she likes and may very well decide to pick you."

Rodwen shook her sister enough to rouse her from sleep. Mellwen protested, looking like she was starving for sleep and couldn't bear to be separated from it. Seeing that the young one could start to cry again, she hushed her.

"It's alright, love. I need to move, so I would love you to come with me. Can you do that? For me?"

After a moment, she nodded and slowly slid off of her sister's lap.

"Good girl."

**Authoress Chat****: Please review. I hoped you like it. Constructive criticisms please, I'm allergic to flames! **

'


	2. Lesson 2- Perfecting Talents

**Authoress Chat:**** This is sort of the conclusion to last chapter's events. I sort of had to gather my thoughts for this chapter. But I think it turned out well. Fair warning, this chapter contains mature subject matter (molestation). It's towards the end. Read or not at your own discretion. **

**Lesson Two- Perfecting Talents**

Rodwen waited a little while to gain an audience with the new Queen. Once she finally saw her up close, Rodwen felt like she could truly take in the magnificence of her beauty. Two grey eyes filled with years of untold emotion and history looked down on her. It was difficult to look at her, if only because she just appeared so pristine and good and true. How could she impress someone like her?

"I heard that you wish to attend me," the Queen spoke.

"Yes, my Lady," Rodwen said politely. "The war has left me and my sister with very little. I have court manners and I can do just about anything you would need. I sow, I cook, I can spin yarn and I know at least a bit of midwifery."

Arwen looked at her with an appraising eye. Despite being moderately tall for a woman, Arwen seemed to tower over her. She was just letting her nerves get the better of her. Swallowing her fear, a look of determination came into her eyes. Suddenly, a warm smile crept over Arwen's face.

"I think you would make a fine midwife to me some day." She tilted her head in the direction of Mellwen. "Is she your daughter? I saw how she likes you and I would say she looked so attached; it was heart-warming to see."

Rodwen felt herself smile too, a somewhat unbidden response to such a jovial attitude. Though she admittedly did not care for Elves, she got the feeling that at least this Elf would treat her humanely and be kind towards her sister. So for the discomfort it would bring her, an equal amount of happiness would come.

"She's my sister. My father, Lord Himel, served in the war. When he died, my mother Míria had a diminished capacity to reason. She refused to look at the will, leaving my sister and I as wards to the gentleman Fuinron. I would do anything to see that he no longer be burdened with us. I want to give my sister safety, above all other things."

Arwen came down out of her seat and hugged Rodwen warmly. Rodwen was shocked until she felt and heard the Queen laughing cheerfully.

"Oh, that won't do. You have been through much, just as Master Fuinron has informed us. I think that for you, a position as my lady-in-waiting would suit."

Rodwen looked over her shoulder, towards her guardian and sister standing awkwardly together. His gaze was unrelenting, expecting. And hers was just plain uncomfortable. Rodwen needed a guarantee. She leaned in closer.

"My lady, if I may beg one favor more." She reduced her voice to a whisper. "Please, allow me to bring my sister. I beg you, she needs me and I fear leaving her in the hands of a male at so crucial a place of maturation."

Arwen looked peculiarly, before nodding her head in submission.

Rodwen, hanging her head in a sense of accomplishment, looked again over her shoulder but her family was nowhere in sight.

/ / /

It was dark on the streets when Rodwen finally made it home. As she walked in, a sick feeling grew in her gut. This place, this house, was utterly devoid of the love and happiness that had once been exchanged freely. She closed the door behind her as deftly as possible. Feeling that she might have entered unnoticed, she leaned against the door, pressing her back into the wood. She sighed, feeling her ribs rattle against the door.

"My, you're home late."

She jumped, despite herself. She had thought by now Fuinron would be gone to his home, to his own wife. What she wouldn't give to be rid of him. How could her mother be so cold in her final days so as not to read what her father had decreed regarding them? She would not ever have agreed to such a choice of guardian. His eyes were so dark, cruel and calculating. They stalked her wherever she went. 'Just go die already! Why did _my_ father have to die so that _you_ could live?! Monster!' she screamed in her head, wishing she could say it out loud. Was it that she was so bold…

Instead, she stood as silently as possible. Maybe if she was more pliant, he would leave sooner.

"Her Lady was just briefing me of my duties. I should thank you for the favor. Your Lord was very kind to do it."

Her shoulders seemed close to her neck, her whole body bracing for something bad. Were it not for the mink laced cloak, she would seem all the more meager in might. The air seemed to be close and hard to inhale. Fuinron rose from a seat at the table. Out of the shadows and into the moonlight coming in from a stained window.

"As right you should," he said, puffing out his chest. "That sister of yours was just so tired. She whined for a long time…until I told her that her bratty behavior would cost you. That quieted her."

"You didn't need to. She's a good girl," Rodwen pleaded. "She's good, but she's young. She gets tired."

Rodwen would never dare to tell him that the real reason Mellwen couldn't sleep was due to night sweats, terrors and visions of blood. Because she was older, Rodwen could hide how tired she would get some days a little better. But the last three months had been hell for them, a wide-awake nightmare. She would never allow Fuinron to know how to prey on them further.

"Well perhaps she should stop. She caused a dreadful scene in front of some important nobleman. If that had endangered my favorable standing as a member of the royal guard…" he trailed off, walking close to her. He saw how she trembled, drank it in from every angle, before leaning in and whispering. "I would have been reduced to force."

Rodwen felt bile threaten to come up. Why would he dangle such a gleaming chance at hope for her? To give her the illusion of a way out, only to assault her with a dark and bitter reality? Or to increase her wealth before robbing them blind?

"You don't need to threaten-"

He slammed her into the door, bringing his fist down inches from her head. Tears amassed from out of nowhere, spilling down her face. How could she meet the Queen with a nasty bruise on her face? What excuse could she give to Mellwen if she asked? Every new excuse seemed more hollow than the last. She would never want Mellwen to see her so lowered, or to witness what she endured to see that they could still have a place to rest their heads.

"Do not ever tell me what to do or not do. So fair but so stupid." He raised his fist above her head, causing her to tremble, before tussling with her accentuated widow's peak. "You are so like Míria. So resilient…so…supple."

His free hand traveled up the side of her body, up to her breast, which he took in his hand roughly. Her body squirmed away from him, despite her efforts to stand still. She just didn't want him to beat her. She could hide the rape, just so long as he didn't strike her. His fingers trailed quickly to her thighs as he crushed her lips against his in a bruising kiss.

Her eyes were shut tightly, unable to bring herself to look. She tried to kiss him back but she felt no love for him, nor could she manage a lustful urge. He, determined to acquire her submission, bit her lip hard, causing her to gasp in pain. This allowed Fuinron to insert his tongue in her mouth. Acquiescing to defeat, Rodwen played his game, flicking her tongue across his. Satisfied that he had her cooperation at last, he gathered the folds of her dress up into his hand, exposing her lightly haired innocence. He brought his lips to her ear.

"I should hope that Míria's cunt was so tender and virginal. You miss her mole but that will have to do, now won't it?"

Still crying, though absent tears, Rodwen nodded meekly, bracing herself as his fingers dove into her. She was not yet wet, yet had managed to become somewhat moist, much to her disdain. It sickened her to think that some part of her body could be somehow accommodating to this most vile form of injury. Still with his fingers inside her, Fuinron rolled a skilled finger in circles across her clitoris, whilst he ripped the ties of her bodice a little looser so that he could bite on the soft curve of her breast. Rodwen whimpered in helplessness, wishing it could end.

"Rodwen?" a tiny voice sounded from the doorway.

The darkness helped to guard her modesty, while Fuinron extracted his fingers from her and returned her dress to a more acceptable state. Shuttering still, she answered.

"It's me, Mellwen. Go back to your room."

Mellwen peaked out into the moonlight, taking in the full image of Fuinron hunched over his sister's body, up against the door. A look of worry came into her face.

"Are you alright?"

"Go back to bed!" Rodwen didn't mean to yell. In fact, she almost never did. It hurt her to do it, but it made Mellwen go away, sparring her any further devastation.

Fuinron licked up the curvature of her ear.

"Next time you resist, I will bend you over and take you in front of her. Goodnight, milady."

And with that, he exited, shutting the door with a slam. Finally, Rodwen was able to cry to her hearts broken content.


	3. Lesson 3- Serving

**Authoress Chat:**** Thank you to Illy, for being the first person to comment on my story. I promise I won't spoil anything. Thanks to all people who favored this, or put out an alert. I know you didn't have to give me a second glance so I'm really grateful. As long as I have a break, I'll try to publish two chapters at a time. **

**Lesson Three- Serving**

Rodwen was given a courtesy of five days to move her belongings into her mistress' apartments. Deciding what to keep and what to leave had offered a bit of difficulty mainly because there weren't so man trunks as before that belonged solely to them. Subtracting the items that were said to be in Fuinron's custody, some were filled with valuable family heirlooms. She had to be sure to take them with her. So all she had left was three medium-sized chests. Three chests, which she had spent the better part of two days arguing with Mellwen over the use of.

"I want to keep this dress!" Mellwen complained.

"No," Rodwen said snappily. "The bottom is ragged. It's not good for a court lady. We've yet to fall so low."

So far one trunk had been filled to the brim with Rodwen's finest dresses, four in total, all of her owned furs (one mink stole, one sable hat and another short mink cape) and her shoes. She had managed to throw in a few family jewels, smuggled in the middle of her clothing. A garnet ring that had once belonged to her mother was saved, along with a string of pearls and pearl earrings. Her mother's onyx broach had been saved as well.

In another trunk were Mellwen's things. To appease her sister in the coming months, she had been allowed to take a wooden horse toy, painted white like a war-horse and decorated with tiny leather reigns. A pile of books were crammed into the chest beside three dolls, a man, a woman and a baby. She had managed to pick out two dresses so far that hadn't seen better days. Children seemed to wear through clothing far faster than adults. It was looking like they would need to go shopping for Mellwen.

"Mellwen, would you like to go shopping?" Rodwen asked lifelessly.

"Oh yes! I would love some new dresses!"

Rodwen's insides trembled in revulsion. With a trembling hand, she shut the chests slowly. She shook her head, clearing it of all thoughts. 'Whatever it takes,' she thought. 'I will do whatever it takes.'

"Then I will ask Fuinron for the money. Don't worry about anything," she said, reaching to touch Mellwen's face. Her sister held her hand to her cheek and kissed it, making Rodwen smile half-heartedly. "You are so sweet. I shall be back shortly."

Rodwen checked herself in the mirror quickly. Her simple blue dress would serve her well. With ties in the front, it would be easy to remove. Rodwen tied her hair up into a bun and left with basket.

She had to make her way across about half the ring from where her family resided. Fuinron used to live below them, but when the family's better assets had been transferred into his possession, he sold his home to live closer to his victim. He had a strange obsession with the former matriarch of the family. This was evidenced by the first conversation that he had with Rodwen after the death of her mother. She could scarcely forget what he had told her, especially not when he abused her body. It was in their first conversation that he revealed what a monster he truly was.

Rodwen had just been visited by a law-man who explained which ways the property was to be divided. Rodwen sat numbly at the table, a tear-stained handkerchief in her clutches, staring blankly out of the window. The words seemed to go in and out. She just couldn't stop thinking of the tower collapsing on her mother's trapped body. All she heard was the last words, shouted at her.

"Do you understand?!"

Still not looking at the messenger, she sniffled.

"Leave the list on the table. I'll see to the rest. Thank you."

Huffing in frustration, the messenger left, slamming the door. Rodwen jumped, thinking how long it had taken to get Mellwen to sleep. She scrambled back towards the sitting room and up the stairs to the bedrooms. Peeking her head into the room she had once shared with Mellwen, she could see that her sister was sound asleep. Her room was covered with bright tapestries and lofty curtains. It was just right for two girls to grow and play and laugh together.

Gathering herself together, she went into her new room, her parent's room. It was somber, made for two subdued humans. The bedspread was dark, the furniture made of dark woods and the tapestries were rose red and deep earthen brown. There was a giant chandelier made of black painted iron with yellow candles. 'The bed still smells like them,' she mused, lying down in a tight ball. Suddenly, she heard the door creak.

"Go back to bed, okay?" Rodwen said from inside the ball she had twisted herself up into.

There was silence as the door clicked again.

Thinking herself alone, Rodwen began to cry again. It wasn't until the bed dipped and a hand much larger fell on hers that she sat up. It was her father's friend. He was smiling at her, one of the first smiles she had inside her house since being orphaned. She felt like smiling but could only barely manage to lift the corners of her mouth.

"Hello, Fuinron," she said, leaning over to hug him. How great a friend you've been to our family, I scarce know how to thank you."

He placed his arm around her shoulder and looked her square in the eye.

"In your father's will, he wanted to see that you married. In the event that you married, your property would go back to you, you then being under the care of your husband."

She looked puzzled, then bewildered as he kissed her. She scooted away from him.

"Master, I don't know what you're insinuating, but I am _not_ going to marry you! My father trusted you to care for us, not to prey on his daughters! I mean, I don't even know you intimately."

He pressed himself on her, against the frame of the bed. His one hand shot up her skirts and the other one onto her mouth to stop her from screaming. He kissed on her neck, licking down her chest.

"No, but you will," he began to toy with her. "It saddens me, maddens me, that Míria had to die for you! She had the perfect mole on her chest, perfect skin. She nearly managed to pass her visage to you. But there, in your face, you have the remnants of your father!" He pinched her deep below, making her squirm and cry. "Now, you can marry me or not, I'll still keep your money. But what I really want is to be closer to Míria, to caress her pale shadow. My wife will soon be dead. In the madness, she fell. She hit her head. And now she just sleeps and sleeps. And when she wakes, she can't remember me. Now you will give me what you owe me, before you suffer the same fate."

He let his hand fall off her mouth. Evil burned in his eyes.

"You hurt her? Why, why would you do that?"

"She found what I had hoarded of your mother. A lock of hair, a painting, a love letter…" he grabber a fistful of her hair, making her yelp, before kissing her.

"Please, stop," she begged.

"No! My wife burned her belongings, said I was adulterous. Your father, he stole the real thing! I shall possess what little of Míria there is left to Arda!"

It was painful her first time. Mostly because there was nothing she could say to stop it. He could do whatever he wanted, at any time. The majority of her family's money belonged to his possession now. She needed to go through him, whether she decided to marry him or not and with the war over, so few young marriable Men remained. In the midst of ruminating over her misfortune, she tripped and stumbled face first into a solid back.

"Ouch," she rubbed her face. "I'm sorry."

She caught a glimpse of him as he turned his head to see what had hit him. Rodwen was mesmerized by his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. The glare obscured his face a little bit, but she could swear that he had sea blue eyes. He nodded in acknowledgement and continued walking through the streets. Rodwen could not help but stand star-struck. She noticed a small point of the ear as he walked onwards and felt sorrow.

"An elf, not a man," she sighed. 'No wonder even his backside was so damned gorgeous.'

She turned away and crossed the street, coming upon Fuinron's doorstep. She knocked but upon hearing no answer, opened the door anyways. He always seemed privy to her coming, like he charted her need for certain materials. She walked into his wife's bedchambers and sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked progressively worse. A month and a half ago she looked purple around where she was shoved into the wall. A month ago, her bruises turned a strange purple-green mixture. Two weeks ago, her face went a lifeless color of grey. And today…today, she had no life in her at all. The body had not yet begun smelling, but still, Rodwen could feel the death. Her life married to him couldn't have been a happy one. To have accused him of adultery must have spoken to how loveless the union had been. To have him wish her to be another woman entirely, it broke her heart, and she paid for caring for a monster with her life. Rodwen kissed her head and left for Fuinron's bedroom.

Entering, she saw him, shirtless, drinking from a chalice in front of the fireplace. She shuffled her feet nervously before speaking.

"She's dead, you know."

Fuinron chuckled, sipping from his cup.

"You suppose I ought to have checked on her? Gave her a chance at life?"

Rodwen shook her head.

"No. She got the better end of the deal. Now she is at peace, a peace deniable by no man."

Fuinron stumbled over to her, drunk and reeking of alcohol. He kissed her sloppily, groping her bottom. Finally, when he was breathless, he pushed her away.

"What do you want?"

"I need money for dresses for Mellwen. Her dresses are tattered or too small. I can't present her to the Lady the way she is."

"That wasn't the deal that I was privy to. You said she took in you, not your brat!" he said, punching her in the rib, and subsequently knocking her to the ground.

Rodwen struggled to regain her breath. It hurt deep in her tissues, meaning her had likely bruised her. Still, she managed to tell her stories. "She saw us together and said that she would not see us parted. I figured that would be agreeable, seeing as you dislike her so much. I didn't think you wanted to look after her."

"It's my money that keeps her, isn't it?" Fuinron said, emptying his cup before emptying it and tossing it across the room. "You simply take from my coffers. Show me how badly you need a new dress."

Rodwen reluctantly undid the ties of dress up the front, making the top slouch off her shoulders. Her pert bosom peaked over the fabric, arousing him with her attempts at modesty.

"That's a good girl. Get on the bed," he slurred.

She quickly made it past him, attempting not to look him in the eyes. It always hurt a little more to see him take so much pleasure in debasing her. She lifted a leg to climb up and found Fuinron's hands underneath her dress. So predictable, he was, yet it was always the most difficult to brace herself for. It was like he was inspecting her each time, preparing to find her more amiable to his machinations. Each time, he was sorely disappointed and made no attempts to hide his displeasure.

She turned over for him, lying listlessly against the bed. Rodwen tried to imagine herself far away, enjoying an act of love with someone special. It was difficult because she had no someone in mind. An elusive figure always came to her, of a different make each time, though he was always pleasing to behold. As she tried to bring herself to that other place, he kissed her like he had two nights ago.

Without any effort, she imagined that man. No, not man; the Elf from the street. Her imagination replaced Fuinron's hard and careless lips into those soft ones of the blond Elf. Pleased that she had finally kissed him with some form of passion, he entered her, destroying her world of fantasy.

Fuinron grunted against her, pushing deep into her womanhood. Rodwen cried out in astonishment and bitter disappointment. Finally, someone she could think of to make her shame more pleasant and even his visage could not subtract from the cruelty with which Fuinron would abuse her tender privy parts.

He was quick this time, hastened by the feeling of conquest and from the effects of the wine on his ability to maintain an erection. He barely managed to reach an orgasm before he was completely spent and unable to move. Rolling off of her, Fuinron rustled through the nightstand and threw two silver coins her way.

"Buy her a dress and get out of my sight."

Lacing up her dress, Rodwen was quick to comply. While walking out into the street she thought to herself, 'Thank you mysterious Elf. Even though I don't know you, you have saved me in a most twisted way.'

**Authoress Chat:**** As always, please review. Let me know what you're thinking! **


	4. Lesson 4- Usefulness

**Lesson Four-Usefulness**

Using the silver coins, Rodwen had been able to buy one more dress for Mellwen. It wasn't much but it would do for a proper court appearance. The soft green hue of the dress complimented the flowy fabric, making it ideal for the remainder of the summer. By then, Rodwen would likely have enough for a better winter dress. With the remainder of the money she had accrued through selling some of her jewelry (it was an emergency fund not even Fuinron knew about) to rent a carriage into the upper tier of the city.

In that third chest, she had packed as much money, jewels and personal hygiene items she could. Her mother had left behind many jewels, as well as valuable ivory combs, horsehair brushes and mirrors made of polished copper. They would look pleasant in the maid's quarters and would also be safe from theft. Before leaving, she handed Fuinron a spare key to the estate so that he could check in on the house from time to time. The lady had given her at least six months to prove her worth and she fully planned to be as useful as possible.

Entering into the uppermost tier was always lovely. This level belonged to the King, yet his people could still make appointments to see him and admire its splendor. Most of the citizens had seen it during the coronation but the lushness of it was sill as marvelous. The grass was a wholesome green, standing out starkly from the white of the stone walls. In the center was a proud white tree, sprouting foliage for the first time in years. Around the tree was a sparkling pond, filled with crystal clear waters. The guards had let her in up to the doors of the hall and from there she was escorted by an elite guard. They set down the chests she had brought in the servant's quarters.

It was a roomy space with two other beds beside her own. The sheets were crisp off-white linen. There were three closets across from their respective beds and a large purple rug in the space in-between. There was a rather large bronze chandelier, styled like the winding branches of the white tree. A painting of an ancient songstress was painted on the ceiling. It was a room fitting for three honored handmaidens to do their handiwork in. Rodwen pushed the trunks into the middle closet and shut it.

"Hello there."

Rodwen turned her head. There was a tall Elven female with vibrant red hair. Her eyes were grey. She had high cheekbones and a rather lovely face with rosy undertones. She had a silvery dress with long flowy sleeves.

"Hello," Rodwen said meekly. "Are you another maiden?"

"My name is Aeriel. I have waited on the Lady Arwen for many years. She has charged me with training you to become her chief lady-in-waiting."

Rodwen's heart raced, Mellwen came up to her waist and hugged it, which made her gain control of herself.

"Really? I thought…I thought that the Queen would have her own ladies. Where are all the handmaidens from before? This is a mistake."

Aeriel entered the room, closing the heavy oak-wood doors.

"Tis no mistake, Lady Rodwen. There were other maids but she wished you and your sister to have the best apartments. It seems that she was quite taken with your love for your sister. See that, how the young one cleaves to you?"

Aeriel leaned down on one knee to stroke Mellwen's hair, making the little girl giggle.

"You, young Mellwen, made our Lady so happy that she could see your sister waiting on her for years to come. Longevity is the crux of Elvish life." She looked up at Rodwen, smiling. "So you see, even though a few of the handmaidens who waited on the Steward's late wife remain here, Lady Arwen sees an ability to love her and her offspring in desperate times and to service with a sense of sacrifice. There was no mistake."

Rodwen felt free to smile, though she was openly nervous. She picked Mellwen up and kissed her. Rubbing her nose against Mellwen's she laughed.

"Well little lady, you are just my good luck charm!"

"I love you, Rodwen," Mellwen said, hugging her sister around the shoulders.

Still holding Mellwen, Rodwen listened to Aeriel outline the details if the room and her duties for the first weeks. About the room, Aeriel informed her that it was the chamber for the chief lady-in-waiting and two of her favored maidens. However, since Rodwen had asked for a place for her sister, she would have a place for one extra maid. She explained how to make the beds for court standards, and how to dress the lady's hair in oils. To drive home the bathing lesson, Aeriel had sent Mellwen back to the apartments and gave Rodwen a walkthrough.

Housed in an innermost chamber, there were two bathing stations. One was a deep pool where a natural spring flowed in from the mountain. It was lined in marble detailing, with a nearby fire-pit carved of white stone, where rocks were heated around the clock. These rocks, she explained, could be used to heat the water. Beside it was a stone chair lined with a fur pelt and joined to a pedestal holding up a bronze bowl filled with water. At the front of the chair was a water basin, also made of marble. Aeriel showed her the cabinet where all the essential oils and scented soaps were and which drawers the combs, foot scrubbers and brushes were in.

"This cabinet is only for use with the nobility. I know of the noble heritage of Himel and how you own a good deal of estate. However, as a handmaiden, the only nobility that you will regard is the King, the Queen, any future children, and all guests of their House. Though you may bathe here at night, and always after the nobles have gone to bed, these items are not for common use. I trust that you have brought your own and even if not, the farthest maid closet inn your room has a store of other soaps and smelling salts. Come, I've more to show you."

Aeriel walked Rodwen up a spiraling staircase to the royal bedchamber. She knocked politely on the door and waited for a response. Rodwen tapped her shoulder while waiting.

"Yes?" Aeriel asked.

"What was that chair apparatus that you showed me below?"

Aeriel gasped, grimacing that she had forgot to inform her protégé.

"It is a contraption for washing hair and scrubbing feet. Again, it is open to you, but only after service has ended. Generally, lower maids are relegated to managing the lower basin, but Lady Arwen may ask you to wash her feet and in such an occasion, you must soak them, scrub them and apply oil. It should not be hard to do. "

Suddenly the door creaked open, as a maid dressed in yellow straightened out her smock. She had smoldering brown eyes and chestnut hair, tied into a braided bun. She looked defiantly at Rodwen before opening the door all the way.

"She's back, in the bedroom portion. You can sit in the sitting room while she gets dressed. Tea is on the table."

Rodwen entered behind Aeriel, yet still kept her eye on the older woman. She had to admire the sitting room. Unlike her own sparse room, there were plenty of chairs. Some were lounge chairs. Other chairs were set up around a large card-playing table. Each of the chairs was uniform in make, carved out of poplars and lined with deep green material. There was a large loom in the corner where a half-finished tapestry was in the works.

Aeriel sat down at a center table with six chairs, where the tea pot and cups had been set. The handmaiden had shown them in went back into Arwen's room to further assist her mistress. Aeriel passed a cup to Rodwen before pouring her some strong black tea.

"The sugar is to the left," she said, scooting the tray a little closer.

Rodwen held up her hand, politely refusing without having to say so in so many words. The strong tea helped to wake her up, seeing as she didn't rest very well following her encounter with Fuinron. She knew that he would become a member of the royal guard but fortunately his apartments would be far away. He would sleep closer to the Lady. And, as Aeriel explained, her fellow maids lived on either side of her quarters and no Men were allowed in the women's rooms. Lady Arwen frowned on premarital sex. If only she knew…

"It can't taste very well," Aeriel said laughing. "Relax! Lady Arwen wanted your life here to be as easy as possible. You have been through so much. I do not mean to overstep, she just began talking to me about how you made her feel. I will soon leave to the Grey Havens and on to Valinor. My lady wanted a brand new face to grow with, not one who has a history of mindless service. She also wanted your sister to have her caregiver."

The bedroom door creaked open and Arwen exited. She wore a Gondorian fashion, a sea-green corseted dress with a shimmery, sheer golden sash and shoulder wrap. Arwen was still as glorious as ever, Rodwen mused, admiring the way some sort of light seemed to shine from her. Arwen smiled, holding out a hand to her.

"Please, join me at the card table. You may join as well, Aeriel."

Both ladies got up and sat around the table, as Arwen began to cut the deck. Arwen spoke to Rodwen again, making her feel some kind of special privilege had been bestowed upon her.

"How do you like your room?" she asked.

"It was beautiful. I never imagined that I could be treated so well. I also was surprised that you felt so strongly about me, where my sister is involved. It's not a strange notion, is it?"

Arwen laughed a little bit.

"Longevity is the curse of Elven life, is it not? I seldom worry about losing my father or mother. My brothers are strong and will not cease to be all the long years of their lives. My mother, Celebrían, was attacked by Orcs when I was coming into my majority. She survived, but barely. If she had perished, I could have leaned on my father to help me in my time of crisis. Yet, I think I would have died. My brothers were so much older than me that I would not need to care for them. How could I not admire the strength to mother a child when you are but a child yourself? I admire the brevity of human life and the strength that it bestows."

Rodwen nodded as Arwen gave everybody five cards.

"The game is Queen's Heart. A woman here showed it to me. Do you know it?"

Both Rodwen and Aeriel nodded and they began playing.

"So, I am certain that Aeriel told you the majority of your duties. Your most important duty is will be to serve as my companion. You will select my outfits and help me don them. You must make sure that the other maidens keep the apartments clean. You must not let the Men enter your chambers. A married handmaiden has different separate apartments from her sisters, to protect her from men with less than pure intentions. And above all-"

They were interrupted by a stiff knock at the door. The maiden from before exited the bedchamber, still holding a scrub brush in her hands. A bit of her apron was still wet, suggesting that she had been scrubbing the floor. She opened it slowly, pausing to toss away the brush. She curtsied in the doorway before stepping aside. In strode the King with other companions, a blond Elf and a ruddy haired Dwarf. Then Rodwen remembered that they were the members of the Fellowship. She shot up from her chair, making sure to bow low.

"Your Majesty."

As she raised her head, she was absolutely terrified by what she saw. The King stood shoulder to shoulder with the same Elf that she had bumped into on the street! The same Elf who she had fantasized about to escape her woes. The curvature of the lips she had visualized was even more perfect than any phantom of her memory. She felt nothing but shame. How could she have known?! She shot up, turning a terrible shade of red, and returned to her seat, covering her face with her current hand.

"Is something wrong?" Aragorn asked, coming ever closer with his friends.

"Please," Arwen said outstretching her arm, "join us for a game of Queen's Heart."

So the King, the Elf and the Dwarf sat down at the table and received a hand. Aeriel explained the rules, to end the game with as many hearts as possible, of as high a value as possible. The whole time, Rodwen looked like she could be sick at any moment. The Elf looked over at Aragorn nudging him.

"How rude of me," Aragorn said, gesturing towards the Dwarf. "This is Gimli, son of Glóin, and this," he gestured towards the tall blond drink of water, "is Legolas, son of Thranduil the Elven-king."

She looked even worse upon hearing that, about seconds away from mortified tears. She may as well tell them something, lest they all think she was going to be sick all over the room.

"I already met the Elf. Legolas…I already met him, when I careened into his backside yesterday."

Aeriel covered her laughter with her cards but no one else was so kind. Legolas scooted closer to her, making her want to curl up. She couldn't stand being so close to such a forbidden comfort. 'He's royal _and_ an Elf! If it was a shot in the dark before…!' He reached out for her hand, which she quickly snatched away.

"They're laughing because," he started, pausing to laugh, "I had informed them yesterday of how perplexed you looked. I was a bit confused by how you looked at me, yet I was in a rush to see a bit of the city with Gimli and he was already so far ahead. There was a far-away look in your eye but before I could ask you your name or if you were hurt, I was called away."

Knowing that he didn't think she was a lunatic gave her some small peace of mind and knowing his name made it somehow better that she had fantasized about him. Though she was resolved not to do such a thing again, she could now begin to replace some of her imaginings about him with real personality traits. Fanning herself with her cards, she grasped his hand, at last.

"Thank you for not judging me unfairly. Now let us play."


	5. Lesson 5- Getting Accustomed

**Authoress Chat:**** I worked so hard on this chapter. I wanted to make it a little longer, due to the fact that the semester starts next week. So this should make it to about 3000 words and keep you hanging in there a bit longer. As always, thanks so much for reading my stuff and please, please review. It really helps to know what you think about my work so I don't do something that just turns you off completely. **

**Lesson Five- Getting Accustomed**

After the game, Rodwen was dismissed to see to her sister. Seeing the splendor which she would help to maintain was still as surreal as ever. The entirety of just the King's household was grand. How would it be to dine with esteemed company on an intimate basis? What of the other guest suites off the property? Would she ever visit them or make use of them herself? Would she be able to find a suitable husband among the staff or even in the King's guard? Would it be someone who could protect her from Fuinron's malice? All these questions and more plagued her mind, making her feel tired to the bone. At least she was allotted some time to spend piecing together the shattered remnants of her life with her sister. For that, she thought, she would always be grateful for the mercy of Elves.

Creaking open the door, she collected her scattered thoughts so that she could pay better attention. She walked through the doorway with a bright smile on her face. Rodwen found it a little strange; for the first time in a long time, she didn't have to pull from some deep-seated place for a happy attitude.

"Hello, lucky charm."

Mellwen turned her head from her doll family. She had dressed the female doll like a bride and the male as a groom.

"Hi, Rodwen! Do you want to play the daddy?" she asked, picking up the doll in question to show her.

"Of course. Did you pick a name for him?" she asked, sitting down on the floor.

"I named him Glawron. And she… I think I like the name Eiliant."

"I think I can work with that," Rodwen said, posing the male in an authoritative stance.

"I hope that you get married, Rodwen. I want him to be radiant for you!"

Rodwen was taken aback at hearing Mellwen talk like that. She wondered a bit at how obvious it was that marriage was virtually the only way out for them. Then again, it didn't take a genius to figure it out. Rodwen had to beg Fuinron for access to her family's resources. It wasn't quite the case that Gondorian law forbade women to own property, but it was expected for a male guardian to manage it. As an obedient daughter, it was expected for Rodwen not to oppose her father's "reasonable wishes." It would be a hard sell to portray Fuinron as a monster, something she knew from the beginning of the abuse. And now, with the burial of the only proof of his sick nature, there was only one way to restore their lives to a greater state before Fuinron squandered their money any further.

"Well, I would love to get married, Mellwen, but I hardly think any Men are interested in marrying me. Don't you want me to wait out a good husband, one who loves you like I do?"

Mellwen tucked a loose hair behind her ear, nervously. She had a sort of sixth-sense for people's emotions. When she made her sister nervous, she could feel it. Rodwen highly suspected that she knew that she knew how badly Fuinron treated her, though not exactly what he had done to her body. Desperate to ease the tension, she lifted the doll up to her lips and spoke through it.

"Maybe I'll marry your sister. Don't you think I'm dashing?" she asked in a slightly gruff voice.

Both of the girls erupted in giggles at the silliness of such a proposal. At least there were some times that still felt like they were both little girls sharing a room in the sixth ring estate. Mellwen played the part of an absurdly high-pitched dignitary's daughter and Rodwen an equally absurd macho man, famed for his notoriously wretched love poems.

"Oh love of my life, you make my heart to melt like cheese, your kissed are like hot coals, I want to smell your fire in the breeze."

Mellwen paused for a second to laugh, before her Eiliant said, "_What_?"

"Glawron" abruptly changed back to Rodwen.

"What? I said it was bad poetry!"

They played the family just short of childbirth, Rodwen being unwilling to mimic such behavior with her sister. Instead, she offered to tell Mellwen a story to help her sleep. By then, Mellwen had been awake since dawn. They had packed together, cooked together and taken a congested ride up to the uppermost circle. Factoring in how little Mellwen had been sleeping that week, exhaustion was a guarantee. Rodwen had claimed the closest bed to the door as hers, so she sat Mellwen on the center bed and began to read from a leather bound tome of children's stories.

"Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess. Her beauty was known far and wide, not just physically but spiritually. She would help her servants and maids prepare medicine for her sick villagers who were suffering from a wide-spread plague. You see, the cure was simple to prepare, but the crucial ingredient was the hair of a noble and loving princess. Some princesses were virtuous but not loving to all. Some others were loving to all, but not generous. However, this princess pooled all of her resources into preparing the cure. Her famous generosity provided the magic for the cure to work. A prince came courting her and fell in love at first sight. Her hair was blowing in the moonlight and seemed to capture the light of the moon. He said that they would be married if she would preserve her hair, which was running shorter and shorter. Refusing to marry him, the princess culminated her work by shaving her head completely and creating the largest batch of the cure she possibly could. Through this act, her kingdom fully recovered from the disease. However, she was sad because she had lost the opportunity to marry into an equally noble house. When she cried, her subjects cried with her, and their tears so moved Nienna that she said a spell over the princess that restored her hair even more lovely than before. The end."

Looking down, Rodwen could see that Mellwen was soundly asleep. Rodwen kissed her sister's forehead before closing the book and creeping out as slowly as possible. She carefully closed the door with a dull thud. 'Damn, this door is heavy. I hope it does not make problems for Mellwen sleeping.' Pressing her ear against the door, she listened for any cranky movements. Upon hearing utter silence, Rodwen felt free to exhale in relief.

"Well, well, are we done playing?" said a familiar voice.

Rodwen turned around in confusion, only to find the maid from earlier.

"Done playing?" Rodwen reiterated. "Did I hear you correctly?"

The older woman came closer, folding her arms to keep some semblance of composure.

"I most certainly didn't stutter. I'm glad that your sister found a playmate. Now I wonder if the work can begin. The Lady Arwen asked for you twice since you played like a child. It's not a wonder you didn't hear me call."

Rodwen wanted to be so angry with her nasty attitude. She wanted to swear and declare whole-heartedly that the lady never called! Then she reminded herself that she couldn't be sure. She could only find it within to be angry at herself. The lady had a point; she was here to work, not to play.

"I apologize that I did not hear you." She held out her hand. "My name is Rodwen."

"Charmed," the woman rolled her eyes, turning around. "I know who you are, Rodwen. You may address me as Mistress Faelrin. Follow me. We must clean up."

Rodwen followed close behind, trying to make up for her negligent behavior. This was one of the older maids that had serviced Finduilas. She was sure of that much. Why the hostility, though, Rodwen wondered? She supposed that to an older maiden, to have another less experienced maid come in as the Chief Lady-in-Waiting and then not respond to her Lady's calls must have been an unpalatable situation. 'I have to do better!'

Upon arriving in Arwen's suite, she realized how messy she had left things. There were cards and wine cups at the table still and now that Arwen's bedroom doors were wide open, she could see that several dresses were laid out as if she had been trying to pick one to wear. She took notice of a stand that a servant might use to sow together a dress. Rodwen thought she would place a dress of choice for the Lady to wear tomorrow. Catching the sight of a dark blue dress with a purple neckline and flowing purple sleeves, she took the mannequin off its pedestal and slid the snug dress onto it. Then she hung up the other dresses in the closet. She noticed that the closet was split between Arwen and Aragorn's clothes. 'Both of their wardrobes are magnificent. However, I think the Elvish design off dresses surpasses any that we humans could give her.'

Rodwen began to make the bed, taking time to straighten everything out as Aeriel had showed her. The fold was a bit complex for one person to accomplish on such a large mattress but deciding against complaint, Rodwen spent the extra time to do her duty correctly. The whole time, she felt Faelrin's eyes on her, boring holes into her back. All that mental preparation to make herself seem comfortable being underneath royalty all day just seemed to go out the window.

As she finished the task, she took notice of the slightly messy sitting room. She couldn't wait to be out of Faelrin's sight, so she promptly moved on. She placed the wine cups back on the platter with the wine bottle. It was a particularly flavorful batch of Dorwinion wine, famed for its potency. Though the Elves had drunken more of it, Rodwen remembered having very little in comparison, enough to taste and toast. It had tasted quite well but she, being concerned about becoming drunk in front of her company, didn't want to overindulge. She neatly stacked the cards and placed them in the center of the table. There had been a small tray of tiny snacks delivered that helped to tithe them over until luncheon. It was then that Rodwen remembered that Arwen had given her until meal time to get her sister to sleep. Rodwen turned her head towards Faelrin, still trying to keep her hands busy.

"Do you know where Lady Arwen might be" she asked.

Faelrin came out from the bedroom, once again taking a confrontational stance in front of Rodwen, irritating her to a point of outrage.

"Why do you want to know?" the older maid challenged her.

"Why do you keep getting in my face? It was a simple question-"

"As was mine," Faelrin quipped. "The dishes here need to go back to the kitchen and you didn't put back the chairs where they belong."

If there was one ting Rodwen wasn't going to put up with, it was veiled threats. Not with all the real threats facing her, would she back down in the face of someone who obviously had a gripe with her. So what if she wasn't quite up to speed? She just got there, for Eru's sake! She wasn't going to let Faelrin try to intimidate or pressure her any more than she already felt intimidated and pressured.

"If you have a problem with me, simply say so. Otherwise, you run the risk of being perceived as rude, madam."

"She is down in the dining hall. Go, you're barely any good at this anyway."

Rodwen slammed down the food tray, going about her business. So what if she had no idea where the dining hall was! She didn't have to have that bitch show her!

Storming down the hall and subsequently the stairwell, she knew someone near the entrance should know. There were two guards on either side of the door. Both were dressed in the soldier's uniform, with a leather vest bearing the sigil of Gondor. She was rather taken with one of them, a tall sandy brown haired man. His blue eyes were so bright and he seemed to smile at her. She chose to ask him where to find the dining hall.

"Excuse me, sir. Could you point me in the direction of the dining hall?"

She put on her best seductive look. Flirting couldn't help her chances with him, she thought. If she could find a male to marry at court, it would allow her to sustain her position here and give her sister a good opportunity to serve as well.

He looked down at her, seeming to drink her in. It was an all too familiar look and frankly, it made her feel a bit fearful. It was a look of wanton desire. And she didn't know how to take it. Was he expressing an appreciation for her looks or would he make some sick, depraved comment…or worse?

"I can escort you, it you'd like," he offered. "The hall isn't too far away from here, Miss…" he paused for a name.

"Oh, Rodwen," she said holding out her hand.

He took her hand and kissed it, making her tremble and blush. She hoped that he didn't notice how overworked she was getting. "And your name is?"

"You may call me Acharnon. Please, follow me this way."

He led to the left and further back through the chamber that she had first met Lady Arwen in. It was a somewhat less formal throne room, suitable for dances or exhibitions. When they finally got through the hall, they were at the dining hall. Rodwen looked around, seeing who was there. Some other servants were shuffling around, placing trays of food on the table and pouring drinks for Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas, Gimli, Aeriel and two other Elves who she didn't recognize. Towards the back of the room were two other guards, one she recognized from her father's squadron. The other was unmistakably Fuinron. Having him turn to look at her and catching her hand inside of Acharnon's made her suddenly aware of what she was doing and caused her to snatch her hand away. She tried to keep her face from displaying the worry that she felt. Her ribs hurt again, she felt like she was going in and out of awareness. Rodwen prayed he wouldn't hit her for her impertinence.

"Thank you, sir," she said, nodding and giving a half-hearted smile.

He grabbed her hand once again and kissed it once more, winking at her.

"I will have to see you later. Good afternoon, Lady Rodwen."

She didn't look at Fuinron. She couldn't. If she did that and found a threatening look there, she might just break down in tears. She would just have to deal with the consequences of her flirting later. She took a seat beside the two unknown Elves, two dark mirrors of each other.

"How good of you to join us," Aeriel welcomed her, raising a cup. "We were just starting the meal. Please, sit."

The plates were made of fine china, lined with silver. The forks were made of polished silver. The table was covered in a silk cloth, colored a rich green color. The cups were made of clear crystal. Rodwen couldn't remember eating in such splendor since before she hit puberty. And then Orcs began more aggressively attacking Osgiliath. To remember how they had lived before everything went crazy just made the magnitude of the loss even more obvious. Arwen got her attention.

"May I introduce my brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. They are here to see Aeriel and I before they leave for the Grey Havens."

They were both dressed in red tunics with black belts around their waists. Elladan had on brown leggings, while Elrohir had on blue leggings. Aside from that, Rodwen could barely tell the difference between them. A slight difference in hair line, a slightly stronger jaw line for Elladan, and other miniscule differences did nothing to help identify one from the other with ease. Still, they were pleasant to look at, though they looked a bit saddened. She needed to get her mind off of the thoughts running rampant through their brain.

"It's nice to meet you both. I'm glad to have met you before you left." She thought for a second before saying anything more. "Your sister is very brave to separate herself from you. I could never imagine loving someone that much. I hope that didn't offend anyone."

The brothers looked at each other and then towards Arwen. Elrohir spoke first.

"That's alright. When you love someone, you can be content leaving them in good hands."

"Her happiness is most important. We can live knowing that the rest of her mortal life was as happy as believe it to be now."

"Where is your sister?" Aragorn asked.

Conscious of what Fuinron might do terrorize her sister if he knew that she was sleeping in the middle of the day, she had to tweak her answer. He seemed to be agitated by her irregular sleeping habits and liked to use it to his advantage to keep Rodwen sleep deprived and easier to assert dominance over.

"She was playing with her dolls the last time I checked. I had to leave abruptly, as Faelrin informed me that you had been calling for me."

Arwen gave her a peculiar look before informing her of the ugly truth.

"I never called for you. I asked for you to join me for luncheon and no earlier. You say Faelrin told you that I called for you?"

Rodwen nodded, feeling the heat of anger rise in her again.

"I hate to inform you, but Mistress Faelrin was lying to you. I suppose it was her way to express anger over the fact that I did not promote her to the honored position that you now hold. Pay no heed to her; she will just have to make peace with what I have decided. Do not allow her to bully you. _I_ am your mistress, not she."

Rodwen nodded with a stiff look of determination on her face. She wouldn't let Faelrin push her around or make her look foolish anymore. She caught a glimpse of Fuinron moving out the side of her eye. He seemed to be coming to the head of the table, where Aragorn was seated. It was a strategic move on his part to scare the wits out of her. She tilted her head away to avoid his gaze. She resigned to focus on her plate, which was presently empty, so she reached over and grabbed a roll from the center of the table. She wasn't able to eat, just able to twiddle it in her fingers. The feel of him staring her down, calculating how he would pay her back made her heart race.

"Are you well?" Legolas asked.

Her head snapped up, dropping the roll from her hands.

"Oh, of course. No need to worry!" she squeaked. 'That was very convincing,' she chided herself, willing herself to take a bite of the roll.

A servant came around and asked if she wanted some of a salad and roasted pheasant. She accepted, if only to seem more at ease and then began to force herself to feed a hunger that was altogether absent. Gimli interjected, breaking the silence.

"I figured that soon me and the Elf would leave to do some exploring. Soon after, we'll be going our separate ways."

Aragorn nodded. "Well, you know that my home is open to each of you at any time. Let me know what you'll need on your journeys and I'll make sure that you have it. In the meantime, it would be quite nice we spent just a while longer together."

"You three must be such great friends," Rodwen said without thought. It had sort slipped out, due to the awe with which she marveled at their friendship. "I used to have good friends but time isolates people."

"You seem a fine lass to me," Gimli said, stroking his beard. "I think you'll find people receptive to your friendship if you gave them a chance."

'If I gave them a chance?' she thought. "I wasn't aware that I didn't," she said laughing weakly.

"I think he means to say, you always seem to be on high alert," Legolas clarified, making her subconsciously glance at an expressionless Fuinron.

"Your leg is shaking madly," Elladan commented, looking down at it.

Rodwen immediately stopped, willing herself to get a grip.

"I suppose it's still so much to adjust to. I've been treated better than I could have hoped for and it still makes me nervous. I'm trying to take it easy, as you have suggested. It all just seems to overwhelm me."

"Well, after this, we women can spend some time together at the needlepoint. I was working on a tapestry for our Lady before I left," Aeriel offered.

"I would like that," she smiled, still keeping her focus on Fuinron who leaned down to whisper something to Aragorn.

Aragorn waved his hand, Fuinron bowed, and then he sauntered out of the hall. Crisis averted for the meantime, she thought.

"So, who else have you met around Court?" Aeriel asked. "I noticed the look that Acharnon gave you on the way back to his post."

That made her feel better about her flagrant flirting. She didn't want to seem unladylike. She wished she hadn't been caught receiving the attention of another male and felt guilty of her behavior regarding seeking a husband so soon. But to know that her actions were viewed with any degree of normalcy made her feel that she could hide her degradation until ultimate security was achieved. It gave her hope.

"Besides all of you, he and Faelrin, I really have yet to do much except play with my sister. Still, it felt nice to have so many people treat me so well. It gave me hope for a long life here."

"That is a good thing. You are a mystery, Lady Rodwen," Legolas said with an obvious hint of curiosity. "You think much of others; a quality that I agree will help you flourish at court."

A bit worried at how Fuinron had been gone for several minutes, Rodwen nodded and kindly asked to be excused. She got up from the table and paced deliberately towards the door. She wanted to burst into an all-out run but she couldn't be seen doing so. Calmly, she made her way out of the door, she power-walked past Acharnon and once out of his sight, made a run for her room.

'Please, let Mellwen still sleep!' she pleaded in her mind, as if Fuinron could hear her.

She got to the suite before she ran into a cold-eyed Fuinron, wringing his hands together. He had just exited her room. Her eyes went wide as she realized that he had discovered her lie.

"Please, I didn't want you to-"

He grabbed her by the arms tightly, shaking her hard.

"You whorish little liar. You think that I did not notice that young man kiss your hand? You thought I would not check to see if your brat was taking up space here? You really trust me so little."

Rodwen tried to find some modicum of courage. He couldn't do very much to her here and that was enough to spare her the worst of his wrath. She swallowed hard.

"Why would I trust you, with what you do to me?"

His steely eyes seemed to light up at her defiance. What was she to do? Fight back or surrender to him, he enjoyed whatever choice she made. It was all a big game to him. He grabbed her by the hair and kissed her with an angry passion, making her stomach turn.

"I wouldn't do anything to your sister. I only have sex with women," he said in a voice so cold that it could easily mask how livid he was to any passerby. It was as if he could read her like a book.

"I don't think that," she lied again. "Like I said, Lady Arwen asked her here."

His grip on her arms tightened as he threw her to the ground. Her arms shot out quickly enough to keep her from hitting her face, but it still hurt. Her ribs ached from the jab he gave her earlier and now she knew that her arms would be injured in a similar fashion. He pointed down at her as she collected herself.

"Don't lie to me! If you think I don't know that you asked your sister to be here, you mistake me for a fool! Now you make sure that she stays awake and useful or if I catch her, I'll spank her. Do you understand?"

She nodded, fearful that if she spoke out loud she would cry. Quickly, she got back up and began a shameful walk back to the dining hall. She was surprised to see Legolas coming out of it, thinking she would have more time to collect her thoughts before anyone would see her. She paused, wondering what to do, before deciding to just to just turn around and go outside.

"Wait," he said, hoping to halt her. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not!" she yelled over her shoulder.

He ran up to catch her and upon touching her shoulder, she shrieked. His footfalls had been silent and his touch light, sensual even. Her heart rate went through the roof as she swung backwards with a closed fist. Rodwen hadn't meant to, she just didn't want to be touched. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want to make hard decisions. She just wanted to be left alone. Correction, she wanted to kill Fuinron with her bare hands, and then be left alone. Still, she hadn't meant to strike at him and seeing the shock on his face as he held her fisted arm in his grasp just sent all her outer defenses crashing down. She sobbed and sobbed, trying to keep herself from falling to her knees. She felt like she had been punched in the gut. He let her hand go, coming closer, arms outstretched to receive her. She held her hand out, catching her breath.

"No, no, no!" she said, moving further away. "Stay away from me! Please!"

She tried to keep her distance but his decision was already fixed. Why was he so persistent? His strides were so long, she couldn't keep him back. His arms still outstretched, he came up to her, face to face.

"No one has to know," he promised to her, "but you need to let it out. I did not mean to make you self-conscious. I just know that face. You don't have to push me away, even if you don't know me, I just want to know why you looked so sad when I first saw you. Let me help."

Rodwen tried to refuse but found that she just fell into his arms and couldn't stop crying. He helped her move out of sight to a bench near the back of the room. And there he just let her crjy until she had run dry.

**Authoress Chat:**** Well, that was a mouthful. 4500 + (I think I deserve a cookie) words, far exceeding my 3000 estimate. If I can't get cookies, at least give me reviews. See you guys soon! **


	6. Lesson 6- Trust

**Authoress Chat:**** Thank you for all the love. School has been school (keeps me busy) and the after-effects of a sprained wrist have hindered my writing time. Still, I tried to write a decent amount, although I really had to break up the huge-ass chapter that I wanted to do (too many ideas all at once). Anyway, without further ado, I give you chapter six.**

**Lesson Six- Trust**

It felt like the tears would never stop coming out. It wasn't like she hadn't cried about her life before now, but for once there was the feeling that someone was listening. Rodwen remembered how all of the women in the house had come together to cry, even the servants, when her father had died. It was like everyone knew just how devastating a loss they had suffered. No one had to say a word. It was common knowledge that Himel was a beneficent master. He often gave leave to servants, had given several a place to birth their children and always had a heart to help them in the times of escalating Orc attacks. No one ever felt the need to take advantage of him because he was just so naturally generous. To know him and then to miss him was a feeling that transcended empty well-wishes or claims of a speedy return to happiness. Everyone knew that nothing would be alright for a long time. Because of this, Rodwen had never espoused just how she felt about what had happened to her.

Shortly afterwards, Míria had begun to lose her mind. She became grief stricken and couldn't hold herself together over long periods. She would sit in the bathtub for hours, long after it became cold, and murmur to herself as if she was conversing with her late husband. Her mother, once classically beautiful, had quickly aged. The harrowing sorrow had etched itself into her face and robbed her hair of its luster. Her frame became gaunt and frail, as Míria had refused to do much eating. Míria would just sit alone, always murmuring, becoming irate at those who would attempt to grab hold of her attention. She was simply lost to another world.

Her temperament final eroded to the point that she fired her servants for attempting to clothe or feed her. When the siege Gondor began, no one could uproot her from her dark and solitary seat. Rodwen was forced to leave her. She still remembered so distinctly when she picked Mellwen up and fled to a hidden room in the house, cleverly concealed behind a wall and fireplace and covered by a tapestry.

"The steps went down into a close room, devoid of light. I had to stuff a piece of my dress into Mellwen's mouth to quiet the sobs as the Orcs rampaged and killed. I covered her ears when I heard them strike my mother, It was such a low, agonized howl and I know that the memory of it still haunts my sister. From then on, I have just done all that I can to protect her make us safer."

Legolas just listened to her talk. All the while, he tried to digest what she was saying. He was a warrior and had been for a long time. For him, to destroy evil was a task that came as fluently as breathing. However, he was also an Elf, and as an Elf had a high regard for both the living and dead. To be a warrior, it was necessary to deaden that regard for the living to kill his enemies. To journey back and forth between the extremes so thoughtlessly didn't seem strange, except for times like this. The power of the Elves had seemed to shield his family from the endless death. Warriors suffered and died from time to time, but his people were relatively safe. His father was healthy. His mother was blissfully in Valinor, rejoicing with her Telerin family. Now here in his arms was a product of such a warring mentality. The Orcs had no capacity to switch to a higher order of thinking. The true baseness of war had decimated the structure of her world. Rodwen was young, a child forced to mother. Had she _ever_ discussed the pain of her loss?

"The youngling, Mellwen, she talks to you often about what she heard? Saw?"

Rodwen shook her head.

"I hid her away in that room for days. I don't know how long exactly that we hid; I just finally heard a breath of silence. I kept her below and checked for our mother. I had hoped…some part of me wanted her to be alive. It's just…after that scream, I knew that she was hurt badly. They had stabbed her," Rodwen retched a little bit. The memory was one that she couldn't bear to remember, and yet was not strong enough to forget. "The wound went through her back and out of her stomach. That was why she had screamed. You see, her stomach had fallen out a bit from the wound. And then," she shut her eyes, painfully motioning across her neck, "they had decapitated her."

"Mellwen never saw it, did she?"

"No," Rodwen said firmly, wiping her tears and pulling herself together. She looked Legolas eye to eye, a deep-rooted resilience shining from her. He thought in that moment that she looked like a warrior, like a mother, like his mother. "I would never suffer her to see that. So I keep that with me. I know I can do it; I can be the mother that Mellwen needs. She deserved better than to see her mother fall apart and, honestly, I hate her for what she became."

"It was not her fault," he said in a controlled voice. He wished that he speak more frankly, as he couldn't imagine ever espousing hatred for a parental figure. "She did the best that she could. I know that Míria loved our father-"

"More than us, apparently, because she just fell apart! I need a mother, I need a father! Now I have to be both! What sort of love is that?!"

Legolas sought the words to describe his ideas. The Elvish concept of love was so much deeper and far-reaching. Elves had only one lover, they married only once, they spent an eternity together and their bonds lasted even through the ordeal of death. They also had the ability to relinquish the life inside their bodies.

"My people," he began, "only marry once. They will share a bond with this person even after their bodies fade away. To lose their one most precious attachment, an Elf will often give up their life. Their spirits depart from a body incapable of enduring the pain of such a loss. Your mother dealt with your father's death poorly, but you must understand the grief that she endured. She created _life_ with your father. She built a home for her family. And in an instant, her life was ruined too. She could not escape the loneliness or the feelings of desertion. I remain certain, however, that when she was whole and unbroken she was a great mother. She taught you how to love and care for your sister through the unconditional love that she administered. You cannot falter in the face of fear or doubt."

Rodwen looked at him, as if she had a question on the tip of her tongue. He was so truly sweet, a balm for the thousand cuts that had threatened to force her into submission. He encouraged her to remember what her mother was like outside of the context of war. It wouldn't be completely right but she could remain unbroken. Fuinron would not break her like her mother had been broken. This Elf, he made her feel so strong. He made her feel like she would make it to a life beyond Fuinron. The broadness of his shoulders, the softness of the way he touched…he didn't feel like a warrior, yet he was undeniably so by the look of his sturdy frame. He leaned down suddenly to kiss her forehead.

"Do not lose heart, fair Rodwen. Lady Arwen is very kind and, as you surely know, quite generous. Her intentions for you may be trusted without reservations. So, please, do not fret. People will reach out to help you if you let them."

Without giving it too much thought, Rodwen's hand reached for the spot where Legolas had kissed her head. It was a kiss that made her heart melt. Finally, not just a show of courtly chivalry, or a familial bond or even heinous violation; This was a show of genuine understanding for her struggle.

"Thank you, Legolas. Truly, I think that you helped me. Maybe I did just need to tell someone. I appreciate it," Rodwen smiled.

"I trust that your appetite had improved," he chuckled as well. "Do you wish to return? I think it would be good for you to finish a full meal. Your body seemed a bit slim."

Shame tinted her cheeks at the thought that someone she respected so well and truly had espied her physical faults. Rodwen touched her cheeks, which seemed to burn like coals. She must have seemed silly to someone so old and so child-like in her quickness to make judgments. There was no telling what an Elf was thinking at any point in time on any given subject because their frame of reference was just too incomparable to a mortal. All her petty problems made her want to put her faith in those who knew better, the Elves, but she hated looking like someone to be pitied. The image of fragility made her wary of placing too much trust in someone who could possibly view her as a child. Was she still a child?

Rodwen wondered to herself about his intentions. She desperately wanted someone to trust. She wanted these Elves to treat her kindly and think of her highly. They assured her that they did but she was still taking a leap of faith. She had to do it. Through isolation, Fuinron had her pinned to the wall. These higher life forms had the ability to give her voice again. She had never realized how sorely she missed giving voice to her concerns. Overall, regardless of how he viewed her maturity, she felt good.

"Do I look like I've been crying?" Rodwen laughed nervously.

Legolas shook his head.

"I would advise you wash your face, to reduce the appearance of melancholy. You would look no differently than before, and maybe even more at ease."

"I wouldn't want for you to be seen coming back with me, especially if I look as dismal as you say. I would never want you to be associated with my woes."

Again, she looked like she really wanted to ask a question. Legolas rarely found himself so perplexed, but in this instance he couldn't help it. He didn't mean to draw out her entire life story, but it still had fascinated him to know more about the woman hiding behind that mask of timid resolution. She was a delicate mixture of knowing what to do and not having a clear direction. He could see why Arwen had so easily accepted her as a companion. Both of them would need each other soon; Rodwen needed Arwen to give her a steady life to figure herself out and reconnect to her sister in an appropriate manner. Arwen would need Rodwen to teach her the ways of Gondorian life and to couple her infectious love with Arwen's own motherly affection. They would help each other to ease the tension of acclimating to a new stage of life.

"I could never be ashamed to arrive in the company of so good-natured a lady. Trust when I say that no action could ever make me think less of you. You possess a charm that makes it easy to become friends. Have faith that Lady Arwen would not surround you with a myriad of people with an ill-will towards you."

'Faith and trust,' Rodwen reiterated. 'It won't be easy but I can do it. Still, I'm curious, insatiably so. What did he mean?'

"If I may ask a thing about you," she began meekly, "what did you mean that you recognized my face? You said that you knew _that_ face. What did you mean by that?"

A slightly bashful look came over Legolas' hard features. Like a general who suffered a slip of the tongue during an important debriefing, Rodwen thought. 'I thought that I was the only one around here to think so hard on what to say. Who'd have thought?'

"Well, I should at least share at least this much with you, seeing how open you have been with me. I know the look of heartbrokenness. I know what it looks like when you must keep on a brave face for others while deep inside you are no less lost than they are. As for how I could know, I suppose that I first saw it in my father after my mother sailed away. I did not know it then, but I soon saw it in my own face, as I was foisted into the position of a leader. By your mortal years, you may estimate that I was always so brave or gallant, but it took a great deal to make me into the Elf that I am today. Having gone through such a metamorphosis has taught me plenty in the ways of allowing others to lend me strength when I find my own lacking."

Rodwen could barely absorb what she had heard without giving a strange look. Who could think that someone who exuded such ferocity also could find himself frightened? By some stroke of luck, her list of allies was growing. Fuinron would not be allowed his victory. He could not trap her any more than he did at the moment. All she had to do was believe in the goodness of others that her life could be changed. It could be different; it had nowhere to go but upwards, towards a brighter horizon. She managed to smile just enough to show teeth.

"We shall part ways for now. However, if I need you, I may come looking."

Legolas smiled in return.

"I would like nothing better. A lady deserves to smile."

Rodwen curtsied her best before leaving to find a small water closet. All she needed was a basin of water to splash her face with. Finding one on the far end of the exhibition room, she quickly washed up, noting in the mirror that all of her crying had made her eyes look puffy. However, as the water soothed her skin, she could notice the sore look starting to dissipate. For little more than a stool-closet, it was quite elegant. An oil lamp burned in the corners nearest the toilet and the mirror, making the room smell strongly of white-tea leaves. It was a wonderful, fresh scent. The carvings in the wall of winged women and festive singers made the room feel quite more cheerful than it normally might have. And were there flowers hanging from a pot on the ceiling? Shaking the water from her hands, Rodwen couldn't help but to chuckle.

"For all the amenities I have ever indulged in, I shall never get used to the grandeur of this place," she whispered to herself.

Taking one last whiff (she would have to remind herself to search high and low for that scented oil to be used personally), Rodwen proudly exited the door, only to have another maid leap back with a startled yelp.

She was another red-haired woman, except that her hair was tightly curled, full of springs that cascaded down to her waist. She wore a yellow dress as well, though her dress was decidedly poofier. It was not the type of dress that one could imagine doing any hard labor in. And it made Rodwen self-conscious of her own deep red. She stuck out like a sore thumb, albeit unintentionally. Was that what set Faelrin off? Had she seemed like a punk who could not be bothered with rules?

"Excuse me," Rodwen said quickly, trying to step around.

"You're Rodwen, aren't you?!" she cried, hopping up and down a little bit. "Oh my! I had heard from Faelrin about you and I said to myself, well that's all just got to be untrue! So I've been looking high and low and here you are, in the last place I'd expect! I'm Gwendein, the chief songstress! Oh, I'm just so happy to meet someone new!"

She, without warning, pulled Rodwen in for a close hug. This woman was like a firecracker. She talked quickly and excitedly about the most mundane of things. Was she always so…lively? Rodwen hugged her back with a hint of reserve, sincerely hoping that she wasn't. It was a little intimidating, if only because there was no way that Rodwen could respond with the same amount of childish passion. Before she could say anything, though, Gwendein pushed her away.

"That's right. I have to do my business!"

And with that, she moved Rodwen swiftly out of the way and less than gingerly closed the door. Rodwen took the opportunity to quickly see herself back to her meal. She had been gone a long time and besides, she couldn't stand the thought of Gwendein leaping out of the water closet to talk to her. Duty called and just in the nick of time. Perhaps later Rodwen would catch her on a less talkative note. She moved quickly back to her seat, eager to eat what she could.

The two mirrors had moved closer to Arwen and seemed to be having their final goodbyes. Did they have "that" look upon their faces as well? Rodwen couldn't really tell. It looked like they were trying to find things to be grateful for, rather than worry about how little time they had left together. The sadness seemed over-run by the happiness in that way. Rodwen found it easy to sympathize with them. She too had plenty to be grateful for. This day had helped her to figure that out.

The pheasant turned out to be rather good, every piece of it moist and flavorful. At first, she thought that she might not be able to finish it all but from the moment that her fork touched her tongue; she found out that she was famished. Suddenly, the door clicked and Fuinron returned carrying Mellwen in tow. Rodwen tried not to look towards him but she made sure to smile at Mellwen and make her feel comfortable. She slid out a chair beside her to make room for Mellwen to sit, which the young one quickly took advantage of. She could not bear to imagine what he had done to wake her and thoroughly enjoyed exploiting her one power over him.

'Do your damn job and let her alone,' Rodwen glared at him, catching herself just shy of a full-out smirk. And, as always, Fuinron's expression barely changed even though she could see the gears of his mind churning away.

Mellwen plopped down close to Rodwen, smiling up at her, reminding her elder just how marvelous she could possibly be. No matter what, Mellwen never complained. She never stopped to think that perhaps Mellwen was in need of her own catharsis. It was just still such a fresh pain. In spite of that, her little sister always had a smile for her and never asked her for more than she could give. That quality was a rarity for children in general. However, in this instance, it just made her more precious and made Rodwen more determined to do right by her.

Arwen took notice of their young company and quickly diverted her attention from her brothers.

"Hello, little Mellwen! I have scarcely seen you since you arrived. You must tell me how you are doing? Are you well?"

Mellwen just soaked up the attention like a sponge.

"Of course I'm doing just fine, my Lady," she said in an overly exaggerated womanly tone, perhaps mimicking the females she had seen around court. "It is an honor to meet you."

"Likewise," Arwen smiled, crossing her fingers beneath her chin and resting her head. A dreamlike quality passed over her face, in her eyes. "Tell me, would you like to spend some time with my mistress Aeriel, your sister and I? I will do my best to make it enjoyable."

Mellwen sat proudly in her chair and looked Arwen straight in the eye before clearly answering.

"Wherever Rodwen is, I have a great time. It would be my pleasure to enjoy time with my Queen."

Arwen seemed impressed, easing Rodwen significantly. Rodwen had been coached in courtly manners over about ten years Mellwen had been unfortunate to be born during an increasing level of service for her father. He had been a bit insistent with their mother to endow them with the merits of a courtly life, seeing that he was in all regards lower than her in social ranking. Without Himel to push Míria to make her daughters learn these suave habits, Mellwen was sort of left to her own devises and to pick up what she observed.

Himel's mother had been little more than a peasant and so he was very limited in how accepted he would be in formal settings. His own graces just were not to the level of Míria's, bringing out a sense of inferiority. He wanted his daughters to resemble their mother's demure nature and, in that, he succeeded. Mellwen had managed fabulously.

"Please, eat. Afterwards, we shall begin our work," Rodwen nudged Mellwen.

Mellwen ate quietly the rest if the meal, rejoicing in what talk she heard and eagerly anticipating her big day.

**Authoress Chat:**** So, I will pick up later with these thoughts. A couple of things are beginning to happen, in case you didn't notice and I just realized that if I wrote them out to a more complete point, I'd never get my work done! So, until next time (and don't forget to review)!**


	7. Lesson 7- Multitasking

**Authoress Chat:**** Sorry that I've been away a while. School has been a bit of work… Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Make sure to review because it will help me feel like writing something other than papers. K- Thanks.**

**Lesson Seven- Multitasking**

Arwen did not retire until late that evening. She had been so kind to invite Mellwen to join her majesty in an afternoon of womanly work and, as Rodwen has predicted, she had not made a mess of such an opportunity. Mellwen had been trained fairly little in the art of working at the needlepoint. Still, she had managed to learn as quickly as ever and stitched a very pretty little bundle of marigolds into a cloth, which Arwen had sweetly promised to keep "until the end of her days." The later portion of the day had seen Arwen into her brothers' arms as the spoke quickly in what Rodwen recognized as Sindarin but had not mastered enough to understand.

And now it was eleven. Loathe as she was to let her sister sleep while she was still dirt, she didn't have the heart to rouse her a second time from what had been a well-earned rest. So Rodwen quietly gathered a bar of lavender soap, a towel, a sponge and bed-robe from one of her chests and left towards the bath house.

Upon arriving, she quickly realized how warm it was. The fire pit was lit and plenty of steam rolled from the pool up into the air, making a mist over the entire room. She could vaguely see someone there, but the person appeared female, so she had no cause to be concerned for her modesty.

She luckily had chosen to wear a dress with a corset that could be easily undone by a single hand. She quickly undid the strings, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. The boning had left slight indentations in her skin. Still this was a formal setting and it would not have done to have slackened them. That was one thing that her mother had been sure to impress upon her daughter as soon as the latter had begun to blossom into a woman.

Unceremoniously shrugging the dress to her feet, Rodwen stepped out of it and folded it before placing the dress on a bench. The water look dreadfully warm but considering the fairly cold baths that she had been reduced to partaking, Rodwen gladly slid down into the water and indulged in the heat melting away her tenseness. She sank below the surface and let the warmth hit her face until she couldn't take it anymore and popped back up, right in front of a nude Gwendein.

"Oh, holy Eru!" Rodwen jumped back, making the water splash up onto the red-head.

"You're a nervous one, aren't you?" Gwendein crossed her arms over her chest. "I just wanted to say hello."

Rodwen stared ahead. She could tell that Gwendein was at least a few years her senior and she looked it. Rodwen wasn't accustomed to public bathing and the steam had helped to quiet her reservations. However, to be face-to-face with the true form of a more mature woman, Rodwen suddenly found a more critical voice whispering in the back of her mind. 'She's just so…shapely,' Rodwen thought from her current position, eyes and nose poking out of the water. 'I really can't hold a candle to these women.'

Rodwen stuck a hand out of the water, gurgling 'hello.' Gwendein raised an appraising eyebrow before laughing that innocent air-headed laugh that Rodwen had heard echoing in the halls earlier.

"You're so silly, Rodwen. You've really got to relax," she said plopping down in the water beside Rodwen. "Is that better?"

Rodwen finally resurfaced up to her shoulders.

How did you know? I mean, I didn't want to offend you, it's just-"

"Not comfortable seeing others naked, I assumed. It took me a while to get used to it myself. It's seldom ever such an intimate atmosphere. Lucky for you and I that her majesty took such a while getting to bed. Like I said, I knew you were new here and that means that I have to help you. By the way, if you want to avoid a bath with Faelrin and her stuffy old relics, try to bathe after seven o' clock."

"I thought that you and she were familiar," Rodwen said, running her hands through her thick wet hair.

"Ha! If by familiar you mean mortal enemies, then yes, we are very familiar! I could tell from her comments about you that she was out for blood. So that's why I was searching for you, to _warn_ you! What, you thought I was some mean, grumpy old lady?"

"Not an old lady," Rodwen began chuckling in spite of herself. Gwendein's spiritedness seemed to have a tendency to rub off on a person. "And I know that you weren't grumpy from the minute that you talked my ear off in thirty seconds before bounding away like a bunny! Still, I thought that you might share some sympathies with Faelrin's assessment of my virtues."

Gwendein scoffed.

"Certainly not! If I did, I would have to find fault in myself as well because she said all the same things about me when I first began singing for our late Steward. Faelrin despises change, in any form that it takes. She hated me down to my ginger hair and freckles, and all of her fellows hate me too. Try to stick close to me and the other girls. We can understand each other a lot better. Why would you think that any of my sympathies lay with _that_…woman?"

"Well, you were all wearing yellow. I thought that maybe it was a uniform and that I looked like a scarlet misfit."

Gwendein shook her head, patting Rodwen's shoulder.

"You have got to get a rein on that nervous habit. Stop apologizing! We wear yellow because the late Master required it of us. If all we've owned until a week ago was yellow, of course were going to all wear yellow, silly! Besides, you have you officially supplanted Faelrin as our mistress' favored lady-in-waiting. I will never forget the look on that old witch's face as she got the news. Often times, the Chief Lady-in-Waiting sets the tone for what the others will wear. You have a nice but of authority over her and it must just burn her inside to know she can't hope to touch you, short of just plain lying! I'm _proud_ of you!"

Gwendein hugged Rodwen again, suddenly and closely, making her jump. As her arms brushed the fresh bruises from earlier, Rodwen hissed, sending Gwendein into a bit of a nervous state herself.

"Did I hurt you? Are you alright? What happened?" Gwendein began to ramble, softly griping Rodwen's shoulders. And then she saw them. For the first time, Gwendein looked vitriolically angry. In a subdued feminine growl, she asked the one question that Rodwen had been dodging for three months. "**Who** did…this…to you?"

Rodwen looked down and away, pulling her arms to her side. She couldn't tell her, she just couldn't. Nice as she was, her fear was just too great. Even in the midst of all this unexpected support, she couldn't risk being seen and judged as a harlot who sought out a sexual encounter from a man of authority. He was a captain! All he would have to do was point out her troubled past and it the rest would be an easy sell.

"It's nothing. I just fell-"

"You fell onto a set of hands?_ Twice_? What is going on? I'm telling Lady Arwen. You don't have to put up with these 'men' putting their hands on you!" Gwendein said sternly, walking out of the water.

"Wait! Please!" Rodwen cried out after her. "Please, don't tell, Gwendein!"

Gwendein stopped, turning around on her heel and crossing her arms.

"Why shouldn't I? You need help."

Rodwen felt like she would end up fighting her if she made it any further to that door. She was just desperate to make sure that her secret stayed safe.

'How could I want to fight her? Proper ladies don't fight!'

"Please, I would not have the Lady know of my past qualms. I was courting with a gentleman-"

"Gentleman?!" Gwendein cut her off. "**Gentle **men don't need to exert their power over a woman!"

"I agree," Rodwen conceded. "He grabbed me roughly and I hit him and left," she lied with a shaky voice. "I don't want her to worry. It's all in the past."

Gwendein began to walk back and sat on the edge of the pool, dangling her feet inside, up to her kneecaps. She looked just as sad as Rodwen had upon thinking that her secret may have seen the light.

"If you feel that way about it, then I promise that I won't tell anyone. But I'll leave you with this; if a man ever put his hands on me, I'd kill him."

Gwendein didn't leave Rodwen any time to retort. She just picked up her soaps and wrapped herself in a bathrobe before walking out and leaving Rodwen startlingly alone. No clear hints had been given as to whether or not she has been serious but Rodwen hadn't doubted her words. She just seemed so impassioned by the thought that a female had been brutalized and she really didn't know why that was. Why should she care? They were barely friends, so where did that soft and loving hate come from? Rodwen didn't want to think about it. She just sank below the waters and tried to hold her breath for as long as she could and let the heat wash away the shame of the previous half-hour.

Early the next morning, Rodwen arose from a rather botched sleep. She had kept waking, having panic attacks from the realness of the nightmares. The night terrors always changed but the subject was the same; Fuinron was tearing her apart. She dreamed of him stealing her virtue in every way.

In her dreams he would torment her in a way that her body could not survive. He would reach his fingers into her, squeezing her breasts painfully and coax her fears out of her. Try as she might, she could not bear the pain. The pain made her hurt down below, as he made her moan against her will. Her body lurched as fingers slipped in and out of her, each stroke of her more intimate places making gold fall from her body. It was a strange dream to have, but she couldn't stand it, the way her mind smashed all of her anxieties together. She was losing all the way around: her virtue, purity, wealth and strength.

He would continue like that until no more treasures would fall from her and then he would break her in half. His phallus was like a sharp sword, cutting her up and killing her. She cried out for her mother and father to save her but Fuinron just laughed. She could feel him slamming into her, fracturing her bones at the waist, making her bleed as she did when he robbed her of her virginity. And then she woke up, sweating and gasping for breath.

These were all the dreams that she had left to her, dreams of indescribable pain and heartbreaking torture. This one thought had kept her tossing and turning. Rodwen had to stay awake the last time. She couldn't bear to feel that pain again, a pain so true to life that she awoke aching. For a while, she just cried to herself.

'Oh Legolas, if only you knew. How can I trust others when the thing that hurts me most will shame me for the rest of my days? How can you or Arwen or even Gwendein be so accommodating to such a wretch? And soon, I will only have one friend. Sooner or later, this evil is going to consume all that I have left.' She turned her head to Mellwen and just watched her little chest rise and fall and envied her recovery. 'I would see that you are safe, my little one. You are the one bright light in my life. I love you so much more than I could ever love myself again…'

Finally sick of wallowing I her self-loathing, Rodwen arose and sat down at the vanity mirror. She had laid out her combs and brushes across the surface, along with favored hair oil. Her old servant had pressed it for her out of orchids, sandalwood and vanilla bean. It was an earthy scent and it made her hair soft. First she combed all of the little knots out that had amassed from her tossing and turning. Then she poured a bit of the oil into her tresses and began to brush it through until the gleam of the growing dawn made her hair look like brown silk. She braided it down the middle and then pulled it up and twisted it around into a complex bun and stuck in several clips, each shaped like flowers and butterflies.

Slipping out of her sheer bed dress, she opened the wardrobe and decided on her dress. She would match her lady and, to do so, she put on a light purple dress. The dress had a dark purple collar, which tied at the neck. The flowing sleeves were sliced up the middle and revealed fitted dark purple sleeves underneath which had holes in which she could slip her fingers. The bottom had flowing purple frills around it which overlapped with each other. She placed a silver belt with flowers gilded into the band around her waist to make her waist appear slimmer.

Not one to forget, she also laid out Mellwen's dress, the soft green number that she had purchased with her body. The sight of it made her stomach turn, but it was very becoming of such a young noblewoman. She laid the gown down with care across the bench and walked out of the room, eager to get started. Exploring the downstairs apartments, she could see that some of the older women were still asleep but most of them had left their rooms. Gwendein and her friends shared an apartment and were sound asleep. It was the Chief Lady-in-Waiting's charge to see that her sisters were up on time but it was so early for them. She made the call to let them sleep in a little while longer. Most of those still sleeping were mainly needed for entertainment anyways.

She walked quietly to the dining hall to see if the morning meal had begun. While her hunger was not quite to the point of calling, it had greatly embarrassed her to be called out on her new willowy figure. She had been losing weight due to the increased stress of her circumstance. Rodwen had to be sure to regain her health.

Throwing open the door, she saw the table being laid out with a variety of foods. No one knew what to expect the King and Queen to want, she figured. Even so, there were several types of eggs, breakfast meats, cheeses, griddle cakes, sweet jellies and juices. It made her appetite come back to her in an overwhelming rush as all of the smells hit her at once. A mish-mash of all the servants was gathered to the table, including Acharnon. The older maids sat together, still in yellow garb

'A muddled group of grouchy sunshine, they are,' Rodwen quipped to herself.

She walked over to an empty chair and began to pull it out when a set of strong hands fell over hers. She looked up to see Acharnon's blue eyes. Did they always shine like that? It was so charming. She tried to keep herself from reading too much into it but she felt safe to assume that he may have flirted with her had she not beat him to the proverbial punch.

"Sir," she said, casting down her eyes with a coquettish flutter of the eyelashes.

A part of her mind wasn't quite sure where she had picked up such habits. The way she could make sex appeal ooze out of her to get what she wanted filled her with a sense of disquiet. He smiled very slightly.

"I couldn't suffer such a gentle lady to pull out her own seat, especially if I find myself of able body. Allow me."

"Thank you," she said, smiling quite attractively. It just seemed to be a part of her.

'You have learned quite a bit about getting your own way, haven't you?' a spiteful voice whispered in the back of her head.

She sat down with a grace she had long forgotten and nodded to him.

"Thank you, again, so much."

And like the last time, he asked for her hand and kissed it.

"The rarest of women, Lady Rodwen," he whispered. "I count you among them."

She giggled softly, leaning against her knuckles seductively.

"A true gentleman, then, I must count you. You're so kind."

Simpler servants came to ask her what she wished to eat. Rodwen chose to have a few quail's eggs, some griddle cakes with a butter rolled in cinnamon and sugar and some bacon, alongside a goblet of apple juice. The meal was divine and the view of a smitten Acharnon from across the table didn't hurt either. It was a reminder that she could be attractive to someone other than a rapist. Though she was troubled by her sexual impropriety, she was excited to think that she could possibly escape her troubles so soon.

After she had eaten a bit, she excused herself, waving her fingers at Acharnon in a flighty way that she had seen her mother use towards her father. Rodwen went back to the suites to wake up her sisters. To their credit, they got up without too much fuss or resistance to her newfound authority. After she saw to it that they were starting to dress she made her way upstairs, passing Acharnon once again, who was standing upright at the post by the main doors. Coming to the doors of Arwen's suite, she saw Fuinron standing guard.

"Good morning," she said, curtsying to him. At this point, all she could do was appease him through her manners. She wasn't going to stop branching out. If she did, she would be fully at his mercy, broken like he broke her over and over again in her dreams. She had to believe Legolas' words that if she reached out to others for strength that they would freely give it. Her mannerly breeding would just have to temper his anger. He nodded in response.

"How did you sleep?" he asked with a hint of concern.

At least sometimes he was tolerable towards her. Of course, he didn't need to know that even her dreams he violated her. The general polite answer would do.

"It was very good. Before I knock, do you know if Lady Arwen is awake?"

"She should be so but I have heard a minimal amount of stirring. I would knock and wait. The Lady seems to be pleased with you."

She smiled half-heartedly.

"I'm glad."

"Be glad that she knows not of your…appetites."

'And then there are the times that he makes me feel like a common whore,' she thought, hanging her head so he wouldn't see her grit her teeth. Maybe Gwendein had a point. One swift, sure blow to the head and all her troubles could be gone. But then again, that would only open brand new problems. She knocked on the door, choosing to ignore his slighted comment.

Faelrin opened the door, staring at her with an obvious malcontent.

"May I help you, _Rodwen_?"

"I was here to check her Highness. Is she awake?"

Faelrin placed a hand on her hip, taking a moment to size up Rodwen. She smirked, brushing off her yellow dress, as if to silently say that it was what she should be wearing. Arwen must have laid into her last night concerning her attitude ad her lies. That was fine; passive aggression was a much better pill to swallow than a confrontational anger that made Rodwen want to fight her elder.

"Are you going to answer me?" Rodwen snapped a little less politely.

"Of course, right this way," Faelrin said sarcastically, stepping out of the way to let Rodwen enter. Once inside, Rodwen smelled a mysteriously enchanting scent. Perhaps it was an Elven one. Whatever the cause, it made her feel somehow happier. She heard a clear voce like ringing bells singing an Elvish song. Rodwen wished that she could learn more of the tongue. Every other word or phrase seemed familiar but she couldn't string them together in a way that made any sense. The words didn't matter though. Somehow, the inflection of the crystal clear words seemed to tell a tale that the words couldn't manage. Rodwen was drawn to their source, finding herself in Arwen's presence, watching the Lady wiggle her way into the dress she had picked out yesterday. She watched, content n listening, until she saw Arwen get caught up on the corset.

"Would you like help, mistress?"

Arwen looked back over her shoulder.

"Oh, of course. Thank you. I was a bit confused to see Faelrin here early in the morning. She was here before everyone else. It was, frankly, a bit irritating. However, my heart lifts to see you once more. I wanted to ask you something yesterday, but was too fearful. Come, assist me and then we can talk of my great matter."

"It would be my honor to help."

Rodwen gently helped to press Arwen's breasts in a bit before tying up the strings in the manner that her mother had taught her. She was happy that Arwen had favored her dress choice and even happier that Arwen trusted her enough to want her there over her worst enemy. Once the Queen's 'subjects' were properly bound in place, she sat down on a bench near the Lady's vanity, crossing her legs slightly at the ankle.

"What's the matter?" Rodwen asked, genuinely concerned.

Arwen sat next to her, looking dead ahead.

"I did not wish to stir an unpleasant thought. In spite of that, I cannot ask anyone else. When I see how Mellwen reacts to you, I see a little piece of my own heart. I see a gentle mother, softly bringing up her child in the way that she ought to go. It is no secret that since I have waited long to wed Lord Aragorn…I…we wish to conceive soon. Long before he returned to me, I had begun to give up the immortal life of my people and, as such, have no idea as to when motherhood should happen upon me. Your most cherished task will be teaching me how to respond to a child as such. I need you to help me to deal with a fair heart and to help me in the way that I should go."

"Your majesty," Rodwen began, more than a little flabbergasted, "why would you ask me? I cannot tell you the way in which to guide a child. I just love my sister. She is my reason for living-"

"Just as any child that I would have should become my reason to be the best I can be? So you know the feeling. A midwife has to have a sense for these things. A nurse must know when to administer both love and punishment. In these regards, I am as ignorant as any young girl could be. I have no younger siblings to think of when I wonder how to care for a child. And, Elbereth help me, I know when I say that you are a just and kind woman that I am not mistaken."

If Rodwen could not persuade her to rethink her position, she would have to concede, she thought. 'I will give her this point, even if I don't agree, and I will strive to make her kind words true.'

"For now, I will trust that you know what you're looking for, your Grace. So, what is it that you wanted to ask?"

"I want to spend more time in the company of you and your sister. Mellwen is lovely, in a way that I know comes from good parenting. She is kind, compliant, generous and very, very intelligent. Just allow me to stay close to her when I can. Will you allow me this?"

Rodwen blushed; surprised and humbled that a great Queen would even ask it of her She could just as easily have commanded the courtesy.

"My lady, I think that there is very little that I would be reluctant to give you. If truly inspire as much faith as you claim, then by all means feel free to observe in whatever ways might please you."

Another surprise came as Arwen hugged her. It was an honest and sincere gesture of heart-felt appreciation.

"Thank you so much." Arwen stood up firmly. "Now, where is that breakfast? I am famished!"

Rodwen was going to make it. No matter the cost, no matter the suffering, she had to make it.

On the way back to the dining, Rodwen excused herself to make a detour back to the room. She had to make sure that Mellwen had risen, so as to avoid the wrath of Fuinron. Luckily, when she arrived Mellwen was fully dressed and sitting in front of the vanity brushing her hair. Mellwen turned her head to acknowledge her elder sibling.

"Good morning, Rodwen," she whispered. A bit of that cheer had seemed to go out of her voice. "Can I ask you something?"

Rodwen's gut churned. She didn't like the sound of her voice; it was too dull and bleak, considering the usual effervescence. Trying to head off the heavy feelings of the morning, Rodwen joked.

"Get in line; everyone's asking questions of me this morning."

Mellwen brushed her hair gently, seeming to reminisce some memory. The memory seemed to pain her though.

"Do you need help with your hair? Here, let me see the brush."

Mellwen handed her brush over and closed her eyes as Rodwen began to stroke her hair. She used the oil from earlier to make Mellwen's hair a bit glossier. Just then, Mellwen hit Rodwen with a ton of bricks.

"Why were you screaming in your sleep?"

Rodwen felt her heart sink to the bottom of her chest. Just how frightened had she been? She couldn't bring herself to answer; there was just a hard lump in her throat, impeding any sounds she could think to utter. How could she deny it? How could she say that it wasn't true? Mellwen, after all, really was _very_ intelligent.

"You kept screaming Fuinron's name… I know he's not a nice person but… Why are you so afraid of him?"

**Authoress Chat:**** I decided that I wanted to save a very emotionally charged chat for the next chapter. I know, evil, but please don't cut/kill/stab/otherwise maim me. And please, don't forget to review!**


	8. Lesson 8- Denial

**Authoress Chat****: Hey there. I just got off of spring break. I got a lot of work on this chapter done during that time, but it still wasn't quite there. Thank you guys for all the support. I try not to make Rodwen this glittering purple prose princess and bring forward some pale shadow of what trauma victims go through. She's still growing up, so she's sexually maturing on top of her woes. So yeah…**

**On another note: It was brought to my attention that my rape scenes may be…harsh? I don't mean them to be, really. Fret not! I totally only write what I need to, because that was my jumping off point. Don't worry. Legolas has her back on the sexual maturation front. And from this point on, I will bold out the rape scenes. I'm going to do this so that I don't have to warn you beforehand. That's such a downer, knowing exactly what's coming up, isn't it? More later…**

**Chapter Eight- Denial**

Rodwen stopped in mid-brush to stare down at her feet. Her life was so very different now, in all the right and wrong ways. It seemed that she was trapped in a space in-between fantastical pleasure and pervasive fear, a place where never the twain should mingle. Remembering the lies that she had spun was another job now. All of the half-truths were poison to her spirit. Mellwen would never speak ill of her, think less of her. Still, if it was one secret that she could never let see the light, it was the one that let the world know that she was not quite the woman she had been. She shook her head.

"I can't say," she said in a voice somewhat devoid of emotion.

Mellwen leaned over to rest her head on her hands. She was slightly pink in the face, her eyes burning. Rodwen couldn't tell if her sister was about to cry or yell at her. Either response would have been appropriate, judging how infuriatingly nonchalant she was trying to remain. Sometimes even bright children needed things to be ignorant of.

"You don't trust me," Mellwen accused her. "All of the makeup in the world can't hide the marks he's left on you!" She paused, suddenly hit with a pang of regret, knowing that Rodwen had suffered a lot more than she in the last few months. Rethinking her words, she simply said, "I know why you can't tell others. I know why sometimes you have to shut me out. I just wish that if you reach your limit, you will not hesitate to ask for help."

Rodwen could feel it rising up, that great well spring of bitter, turbulent emotions. It felt like bile rising up… no, that was actually vomit. She ran out of the room, quickly rushing to the stool-chamber at the end of the hallway. Rodwen could barely throw her head over the basin before all of her shot nerves just completely gave out on her. When she was done being sick, she just sat down against the door and cried a bit. She was completely mortified. Nothing was going quite as swimmingly as she had hoped. Why couldn't the path to freedom be in a straighter line?

'I'm being such an infant,' she chastised herself, wiping the corners of her eyes until she was sure that there would be no more tears. 'Be strong and tell her that it will all work out. She depends on your strength!'

She picked herself up, dusting off her dress and walking as calmly as she could manage back to her room. However, Mellwen was not there. Cursing under her breath, Rodwen resigned herself to meet her Lady at breakfast. There was no need to talk out what both of them were ready to look over for the moment. She wouldn't let it be too long before they shared words but it was best not to approach this sickness-inducing topic.

Upon her return to the dining hall, Rodwen noticed that more people had risen. King Elessar wore his regal crown and a deep blue velvet tunic and sat at the head of the table, presiding over his newly assembled court. Just as Gwendein had said, many of her fellow handmaidens still cleaved to yellow and suddenly she could see the sense in Gwendein's words. Of course it was this way; it was otherwise unlikely for the women to wear simple dresses of yellow a second day in a row, especially in such noble company.

Much to Rodwen's amusement, Gwendein wore probably the only differently colored dress she owned. It was a rosy pink number with slightly poufy sleeves and white beading around the high collar and neckline. Gwendein winked in her direction, a symbol that confirmed that gesture was for a woman she considered a friend.

Arwen sat closely to Aragorn and her brothers who, by the look of things, were dressed for an excursion. Legolas sat in-between a cluster of the ladies whom Rodwen had personally set to purpose that morn and his friend, the Dwarf Gimli. He noticed her and gave her a gentle nod and a bright smile.

"You finally join us!" Gwendein chirped. "I'm so happy."

"Indeed," Rodwen half-chuckled. "I actually ate earlier. I was just joining the rest of civilization," she teased gently.

"Alas, I tried to get up. The bed just called out to me and I forgot all about my duties. 'Come, Gwendein!' it cried. What was a poor girl to do against such a dastardly foe?"

A few of the friendlier women laughed, as well as some male companions, each of whom seemed fixated on the beautiful young women of court. This place was strange. Everyone flirted so brazenly, making Rodwen wonder why she felt so poorly for replicating what she had learned with such exacting perfection. The court of any noble was a beehive of passive temptation and eloquently worded acerbic jabs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Mellwen scurrying back to her plate. Had she been there the whole time, watching her sister jest as if there were no pressing matters? Did Mellwen peg her for cruel and unconcerned?

"Good morning, Mellwen," Rodwen smiled.

She tried to return the gesture but, weighted emotion still gripped the younger sibling, making a full smile impossible.

"Hello," she said politely, nodding in her elder's direction.

Disregarding the morning's tender feelings, Rodwen decided to focus instead on those who weren't angry at her.

"Please, do sit," Arwen said, stretching out an arm invitingly.

Rodwen sat as near as she could; miffed at the fact that one of Faelrin's bitter cronies had taken the liberty to sit down directly next to Her Majesty. It wasn't as if the seat _belonged_ to Rodwen, but it was a place expected by someone close to the crown. And though Arwen would probably never call this woman out in public, it was clear that Arwen was no less aggravated by the emboldened action.

"I trust you are in better spirits," Legolas kindly interjected, breaking the tension.

Rodwen gasped, a bit split between thoughts, only brought back to focus from the disbelief that he was even talking to her. She wasn't aware that she had made such an impression on him. Gwendein had offered her friendship. That felt natural and true. So what was Legolas? Was he, too, a friend? She had never had a male friend outside of her father. Were men and women capable of being such a thing to one another?

"Oh, yes. I am. It's been such a radical change. Everything's playing out a lot better than I thought it would."

For some reason, a hush fell over the hall. Perhaps it was just out of respect that the Queen and a gallant hero were talking to an important noblewoman. Rodwen wanted to ask about the current situation regarding Elrohir and Elladan but it just seemed that such a conversation would only make her Lady ache even more. Instead, she would ponder in an oblique manner.

"What is on everyone's itinerary this day?"

Arwen shifted uncomfortably in her seat, before acquiescing to facts.

"On account of Elladan, Elrohir and Aeriel being fully prepared, we were planning on meeting my father in Rivendell before escorting them westward to the Grey Havens."

"It is a long journey," Elladan chimed in. "One that will take several days with a full procession."

"I may be only able to leave the borders of Gondor for the journey westward. Arwen had hoped that you would join her, to soothe her when I cannot," Aragorn admitted.

Rodwen hummed positively, nodding in deference.

"It would please me, my Lord. Who else is coming?"

Arwen, finally ready to let her guard down, began rattling off the list of who would attend them on their journey. Of the guard, Lord Fuinron would take a small compliment of the special guard, excluding the Knight-Captain, Acharnon. She had no idea that Acharnon was so close in rank to Fuinron. Power obviously had not corrupted him. He was as sweet as sugar cane, a stark contrast to bitter salt.

Arwen had requested for her Chief Lady-in-waiting, of course, along with Aeriel and whoever else Rodwen thought could assist well. She was quite tired of the elderly company and their morose attitude. This was the time where she needed human kindness at its most effervescent. Arwen wanted a family…Eru knew that following her heart had left her with a gaping hole in that area of life.

"You would leave that up to me?" Rodwen asked skeptically.

"I trust your judgment. Just," she paused, "you'll have to leave Mellwen here," she said in a hushed voice. "This journey may be a slight danger. The country still is not wholly at peace. The Orcs have scattered and some may become brazen after the fall of their Dark Lord."

The rest of the court ate in peace and soon scattered to all the corners of the castle, preoccupied by individual and group tasks. Gwendein had just about skipped off before Rodwen could stop her to chat and Mellwen was too upset to speak with her. Arwen went quickly back to her compartments and bolted the door behind her, effectively shutting out everyone who wasn't her brothers. So that left Rodwen strangely free. With this newfound freedom, she chose to speak with the bonded friends, Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas. They opened her up to a secret garden behind the walls of the manor.

From the sheet of rocks, Rodwen could see the spring of fresh mountain water that fed the indoor bathing pool. It was just as beautiful, if not more so, glimmering in the light of the hot sun. Tiny buds of miscellaneous flowers sprung up here and there, but most beautifully so at the trail of crystal clear waters that was siphoned into the House. There were several finely chiseled stone seats lining the water, covered by marble gazebos, draped in soft, colorful linens.

"This place is marvelous. I'm surprised you would show me such a private place, my Lord."

"Private?" Aragorn paused to question, memories of his mother's tales swimming in his mind. "I suppose that it is. My mother often described the heart of the Mountain as a seat of love and compassion. I have actually never seen this place."

Rodwen suddenly felt so honored. This place was special and she got to see it. Her King was having an actual conversation with her, a meaningful one at that! And she just felt so calm. He was a prince of peace.

"The surface certainly has its splendors. Tis' a mix of earthen comfort and the pleasantries of Man," Gimli commented, running his fingers over a finely etched stone column.

"Thank you, Mellon nín, for showing us this place," Legolas spoke, starring up at the tiny sliver of sunlight peaking in from the space in the rocks. "Your mother was right about the nature of this hideaway."

Aragorn sauntered over to one of the gazebos and sat down. He seemed a bit lost to thought. If it were anyone else, Rodwen might have come over and gave His Majesty a hug. But he was royalty and somehow it seemed…ill-advised. Perhaps he would be more open to receptive company, though. So Rodwen joined him, sitting close and holding her hand out for him.

"You seem upset, your Grace. What's on your mind?"

Aragorn turned his head to look at her and smiled weakly. His grey eyes seemed to be appraising her, examining her for hidden flaws and merits. Something appeared to click, making him smile a bit wider.

"You're too kind. I was thinking that, since I may not be able to be with Arwen all through her journey, I would assemble a feast for her arrival. We will hold the dance in the exhibition room, a masquerade event. In my absence, I implore you to be good to her."

Legolas came close to Aragorn.

"Of course we could accompany her, if you truly worry so much."

Aragorn looked up, smirking, and said, "The power of the Eldar was not so quick to leave her. Even so soon, her Lady is certain. She is with child, Legolas. I can't deter her, nor would I **want** to deny her, from seeing her brothers and father one last time." He paused. "Still…can you believe it? Me, a father?"

"Someone works fast," Gimli chuckled, shoving Aragorn playfully.

"Congratulations," Legolas said.

Suddenly Arwen's morning time chat made sense. Rodwen laughed lightly. Was she sure then that a child was on the way? She might have been in a state of denial. Clearly some sign had presented itself to remove any doubt. Perhaps she had denied that she would be able to know, until such a sign had happened upon her. Rodwen could never imagine knowing the moment that such an enormous change happened within her. 'How does that feel, knowing when a child takes root in your womb?' Rodwen mused.

"She didn't tell me. How strange," she thought out loud. "How does it feel to know so suddenly that you are with child?"

Legolas crossed his arms, laughing awkwardly. Somehow, if felt that Rodwen's question was directed towards him, the only Elf in sight.

"I fear that you shall have to inquire towards an elleth. I have no idea how such an experience feels. An epiphany maybe?"

Rodwen tried to imagine it but it still was still at a bit of a loss.

"Like a sudden realization, you mean? I don't know if I have ever felt one, or that I all of a sudden realized that I had changed." She shrugged. "I guess it's irrelevant."

"My wife has put much faith in the purity of your intentions. I ask you to be a friend, as much as possible," Aragorn tacked on, looking wearied.

Nothing was going to be the same. Perhaps this would be a good time to show Mellwen a bit of midwifery. It was as much an instinctual art as an elaborate skill, both of which were best tested through action. That would be a logical progression of skills for a young noblewoman…that is, if Mellwen was even still talking to her sister.

'I feel like a lying snake. All these secrets are placing undue strain on me. Sometimes, I am such the fool.'

"She is in good hands, your Majesty. After all the trust that she has placed in my care, I fully intend to multiply it and give it back freely. I shall pick the best handmaidens that I can for our journey and make sure she is as pleasantly surprised as possible!"

The look in Aragorn's eyes told her that he was grateful. Legolas looked at her, with a curiosity that could rival a cat's. Was he ever going to stop looking at her like a mystery? 'I'm as normal as any young woman, just as far as he knows. He always seems to be picking me apart.'

"I am glad that you found some measure of peace and tranquility," Legolas seemed to read her mind. It was both comforting and eerie (and really only eerie due to it being a foreign experience).

She just smiled, not certain of what to say. If he could decipher as much from a simple sentence, what more good were words? Instead, she just drank in his lovely features. He was a finely hewn work of art. Especially in the face, with his beauteous bone structure and soft, full lips. He didn't look a day over twenty-five, but he was ancient compared to her, Rodwen was sure. In her min, she was free to admire him in the full capacity of his inherent loveliness and nobility.

"Rodwen?" he roused her from her fixed thoughts.

"Oh," she sat upright. "I don't know if tranquility quite describes it, but peace is a good start." She looked around nervously. "I'm sorry, I have to make sure that the other maids are each done their duties. Excuse me, my Lord."

She rose from her seat and, walking backwards, gave a small curtsey in their direction. As quickly as possible, she turned in her heel and reentered the Hall. She had quite enough of the sweet throbbing that the Elf instilled in her by his very presence.

Late that night, Arwen went to bed, meaning that Rodwen was free to do what she wished to do all day long. Mellwen had been up and present the whole day, which had relieved Rodwen, as it added no fuel to Fuinron's unpredictable fire. However, she still wasn't talking to her elder. How could she make her sister understand? She hadn't left because she was a coward; she had been ill! Or was she just sick of being a coward? Still, Mellwen was the most precious thing left to her somewhat broken life. Rodwen would not allow this grudge to continue past tonight. If she had to be gone, she was not about to let that anger fester over her absence.

Creaking open her door, she could see Mellwen was getting out of her smallclothes and into a bath robe. Mellwen flinched, not knowing who was entering, but upon seeing her sister, turned her back. Rodwen shut the door gently and sat down on her bed.

"Mellwen, can we please talk?"

After pausing for a second. Mellwen looked over her shoulder, but didn't speak. Even so, it was the longest stretch all day since their argument that they had maintained eye contact. Taking the gesture as an invitation to continue, Rodwen began to explain herself.

"I'm sorry that I've been so secretive. It's just been a little difficult to share with you since…since mother and father died. You're a truly brilliant girl. There are just some things that are difficult for a guardian to share," she trailed off.

Mellwen scoffed, tying her robe and turned around.

"Listen to yourself! We were sisters before you were my guardian. I just want to go back to when you were my sister first and told me things. Now there's just a wall of things too sensitive for discussion. I can see you suffer; if you can reach out to me when I need it, why don't you allow the same of others?"

Rodwen was caught off guard by her candor. Despite her feelings of shame over the dissolution of the situation, Rodwen couldn't help but smile. Mellwen was just too charming to describe.

"I should thank Eru that you understand so much of what your peers might not. Come here." She said opening her arms for an embrace.

Reluctant as Mellwen may have been, she did come over and seemed to fall into Rodwen's arms. Rodwen felt moisture on her shoulder and then knew that Mellwen had been holding back just as much pain for her sake. Smiling into her sister's shoulder, she whispered sweetly.

"I know that it might not always be easy to share some things. You were right. Fuinron does strike me and can be most unkind sometimes. However, you must trust me, that I have your best interests close to my heart. I love you, my lucky charm," she teased making Mellwen laugh.

"I'm sorry I was ignoring you. I just got so mad, thinking that you would rather leave than talk to me."

Rodwen kissed her forehead.

"Never. I actually…got a little sick."

"What? You mean you got so upset that you vomited?" Mellwen came up, wiping her cheeks and laughing.

Rodwen reached over and grabbed a pillow, smacking her little sister in the head.

"Be quiet! You know that sometimes you can be a tiny inquisitor! Now come, we have some scrubbing to do!"

With that, a large weight was lifted off of her shoulders. She too got out of her clothes for that day and prepared a basket filled with body soaps and essential oils. Two days of dirt and possibly a month of Mellwen not properly washing her hair was fit to be corrected that night.

Luckily, as Gwendein had predicted, the elder maids were fast asleep or, at best, out of the way. Gwendein and five other maids were already there, bathing in a pool filled with sweet scented suds. The room was filled with frivolous chatter, making Rodwen feel a little more at ease. She squeezed Mellwen's hand.

"You ready?" she asked, smiling.

Mellwen looked around, taking in the communal bathing environment. She was just barely coming into her own bosoms. She still looked very much the little girl, though she was definitely still growing into her womanly form. Taking that into account, Rodwen felt a bit silly at her own discomfort. Mellwen finally nodded that she was ready.

So the two disrobed and got into the pool, almost without notice. Gwendein, at first sloshing and then swimming, came over to the two, sitting nearby.

"Hello, girls," she grinned. "Nice of you to join us!"

"Hello. Mellwen, have you met Lady Gwendein?" Rodwen nudged.

"Lady! Hardly, I'm just a simple minor noble with a lovely voice. Did you see my dress this morning?! Oh, that old miser looked like she was going to faint!"

Mellwen looked confused.

"I liked your dress," she said kindly. "I can't imagine why anyone would object."

Gwendein laid her hand on her shoulder, laughing gaily.

"See, what did I say? Only a truly disagreeable soul could find some much with which to disagree."

"Speaking of disagreeing, I should hope that you won't say no if I asked you to accompany me on an adventure."

"Oh? What's on your mind, the royal progress?" Gwendein scooted in closer.

"I need you to pick out two or three of your most trusted friends and come away with me towards the Grey Havens. It would mean a lot to Her Majesty…and to me. We leave tomorrow, early."

Mellwen splashed her sister with some of the water.

"You didn't say that you were leaving so soon! When were you going to tell me?!"

"I can't bring you. It's too dangerous. We're really only going for the Lady's sake, but far more guards will be traveling with us. There are still small bands of Orcs traveling about. Please understand."

Sweeping her arm across the surface of the water, Rodwen splashed Mellwen hard with a great surge of water, which unfortunately also splashed Gwendein in the face.

"Hey! What did _I_ do?!" Gwendein hollered, causing a stand-still in the bath.

"Sorry! I was-"

Suddenly Rodwen was blinded by water, courtesy of Gwendein.

"Splash fight!" Mellwen cried out, splashing both Rodwen and Gwendein simultaneously.

Quite unexpectedly, all of the girls broke out in a fit of splashes and giggles. But at the end of their juvenile debauchery, the girls all felt like childhood friends. Rodwen had to be sure to add this to the list of things about which Gwendein had been right. These girls were certainly very amiable and open to friendship. If there was one thing she could count on, it was the Gwendein never, ever lied.

The unexpected outbreak of horseplay had seen the girls to the hot stem for far longer than they had anticipated. By the time that Mellwen and Rodwen pulled their flagging bodies out of the water, they were thoroughly prepared to sleep. Pulling on her night gown, Rodwen blew out the candles illuminating the room and plopped down on the bed, swiftly drifting off into a far more pleasant dream.

It was hard to tell where she was, as the room was dimly lit and smoky. The only scent was that of earth and honey and milk. She had smelt this scent before, but it was hard to place a finger on exactly where. Somehow, details didn't matter much. Not when strong, soft hands were snaking around her body. For a moment, she panicked, but when she felt a warm breath in the nape of her neck, accompanied by that deliriously wonderful smell, she melted into the embrace of this stranger.

For a frame so solid, it was also very warm, inviting and sensual. Strands of gold silk fell over her shoulders, tempting her to run her hands through it, but some part of her didn't dare. Soft lips kissed down her neck and shoulders, making her unbearably hot all over. At the same time, those soft and skillful hands tweaked one nipple and then the next, one hand always showing worshipful attention to her tiny bead of pleasure. His fingers split her apart, without fuss, filling her up and teasing. The motion seemed to call hither, towards some glorious release.

He lifted her head up and kissed her with a cool passion that she had never felt before. His face remained out of sight, except for the silhouette of sharp ears. Not thinking, not questioning, Rodwen simply opened her mouth and allowed him to finish what he had set out to do.

The pace of his fingers quickened inside of her, causing her lips to part, as she moaned into this mysterious, divine mouth. Her lips and legs quivered as she felt an intense pressure building in her stomach. Half of her said stop, but the other half knew better. Her hand unwittingly slipped down to grab his.

He took her higher still, his thumb still flicking her clitoris as she felt a wonderful orgasm rend her mind, making her legs quake and give out on her. It was alright though. She was held firmly in his strong grasp, moaning for this nameless god. And he…he supported her.

**Authoress Chat:**** Hope you guys liked that lemony bit. You know the drill: Review, let me know if you liked it, or not. Tell me what you think of her wet dream. Naughty, naughty me…**


	9. Lesson 9- Traversing the Wilds

**Authoress Chat****: Thanks to you guys, for all the support! I really try to make you all happy, especially with how serious this story can (and will) get. I apologize with all my heart for not updating sooner. I am an English major, and I had literally paper after paper to write after Spring Break. I got about 2 pages written total between mid-March and the 22****nd**** of May. Sad, isn't it? Either way, I couldn't help but respond to some reviews:**

**Gan: I really want to write more often. This has just been a real clusterfuck for work. They all wanted papers, all at once. So I try to write when I can, but school can make it bitterly difficult. Fret not, for it is summer break over here. So chapters should be much more frequent.**

**Ellmarr: I should hope it was just a dream. That would kinda make Leggy a molester. Don't worry your pretty head. I shall strive to make it a reality, Eru willing!**

**Ninja0moose: Well, shucks. Thank you for the compliment darling.**

**Without further ado…**

**Lesson Nine- Traversing the Wilds**

Rodwen awoke bright and early in the morning, warm and flushed from her fevered dreams. She had packed her belongings away the previous night, thankfully, leaving room for her to do more with her appearance. This was as close to a royal progress as she would likely get, so she wanted to wear something nice, yet functional.

She climbed out of bed and crept quietly to the stool closet, taking a towel and washcloth to her. Rodwen quickly cleaned up what the night's apparitions had left her with and went back to her room to get dressed.

She had hung up a deep blue dress with many strings going up the back. This dress was her favorite, as her grandmother had made it for her mother shortly before passing on. It was a regal dress, embroidered with silvery vines going up the arms and around the hips. And in the center, using that same silvery thread, she embroidered the family crest, a swan in flight surrounded by stars. Because the backing was so complicated, she would need help. Rodwen went down the hall to see if Gwendein was up.

Unlike yesterday, Gwendein was fully prepared long before Rodwen had come to call, and was in the process of helping the other maids. There were two others, one with raven black hair and bright green eyes and a blonde with brown doe-like eyes. They were all dressed in yellow, with golden ribbons woven in their hair tying it into buns with a small ponytail section. It all looked so uniform and neat, Frankly, Rodwen was a bit envious of their one-ness.

"Wow," Rodwen smiled. "I have to say, I'm impressed." She leaned relaxedly against the door frame. "Might you help me with my bodice?"

Gwendein finished a last knot in the blonde's hair, smiling towards her friend. She curled a lock of springy fire-red hair around her fingertip.

"Of course. Bring the dress in here and we'll help with everything else. Also, if you need help with your hair, you should bring any desired styling agents."

Rodwen went down to her room and grabbed her tea-tree oil and brushes, combs and hair clips, placing them in a basket. She threw the dress over her arm and carried these items back to Gwendein's room. The redhead had just finished packing her own belongings away and cleared off the vanity so that Rodwen could lay down her belongings. Then she began what was sure to be the most uncomfortable portion of Rodwen's day. She had Rodwen step into the dress and then began pulling at all the laces in the back. Rodwen winced a bit at the first sharp pull. Corsets, unfortunately, never became less painful to apply. The bones in her sides ached from the stiff wiring in the chest. Trying to take her mind off of the pain, she began to talk to Gwendein.

"I think that I know where my mother got her obsession with tightly fitted bodices."

"Hmm?" Gwendein hummed at first, tightly focused. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"Well, this is the dress that my grandmother made before she died. She made it for my mother, to remember our legacy."

"That's right," Gwendein said, pulling tightly again, squeezing the air from Rodwen's lungs. "Your mother inherited a lot of coin from her parents. Your family's seal **is** the swan, correct?"

"Flying through the stars," Rodwen added. "I never asked either of them what it stood for. I guess I always thought I'd have time to ask later."

The raven-haired girl spoke up.

"The swab often is looked at as a symbol of grace and transformation. Maybe that was what your family wanted to convey."

"You wear your father's symbol?" the blonde asked.

"No. My father took my mother's crest. He was…less noble than her family when they married."

"That's interesting," the blonde continued. "So it was true love then?"

The black-haired girl elbowed her pointedly.

"You have no tact, Colfindein! Of course her parents loved each other! Don't you know what happened to the House of Himel!?"

Suddenly, she looked at Rodwen, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to gossip. It just slipped out."

Rodwen winced as Gwendein pulled the last few strings tightly. She had hoped not to have to explain herself but she had half-expected to be questioned sooner regarding the details of her orphan-hood. 'Nobles and their gossip,' she snapped to herself.

"Think nothing of it, as I shall think nothing concerning such an imaginary slight. To answer you simply, yes my parents loved one another well and truly. They met at a banquet, while my mother was seeking suitors for marriage. My father fell in love with her when they danced together the first and was smitten for the rest of his life."

Casting her eyes downward, Rodwen cringed at the thought of how close Fuinron had come to having her mother. Míria had been a true lady, but an unapologetic flirt. Fuinron never stood a chance for her hand, whether he knew it or not; still, he had been an option at all and that…that was a superiorly cringe-worthy truth.

The woman with raven hair stared with dream-filled eyes.

"It is all so very romantic," she sighed. "Colfindein can be a tad tactless. I, on the other hand, think your story is amazingly sweet."

Rodwen smiled softly as Gwendein squeezed another breath out of her body.

"Thank you, mistress—"

"Duvainwen, mistress Duvainwen."

"It's nice to meet you both. I look forward to our travels. I don't think I've ever seen the world outside of Gondor. I relish the thought of escaping these stone walls."

Duvainwen spoke, shaking her head.

"I fear for us, if I may speak truthfully, my Lady. We are officially done away with talk of war and orc bands. But seeing them here, I fear to look upon an orc twice. I've come because Gwendein begged for us to do it."

"There," Gwendein stepped away. "Take a moment to catch your breath, and then we can start on your hair."

Rodwen turned around, a disappointed look on her face.

"I appreciate your gathering handmaidens to accompany Her Majesty and I, but I disapprove of convincing those with misgivings to come. After all her Lady had done for me in this brief span, I wouldn't want anyone to fear for their safety."

Colfindein interjected, feeling an urge to defend her friend and to placate her newest Chief Lady-in-waiting.

"Don't blame her, please. We both had to decide to face what may come, despite any coercion on Gwendein's part. Ultimately, Her Majesty needs as much support as she can get. Especially in her condition," she tacked on.

"Wait," Rodwen was taken aback. "Who told you that?"

"Women talk,' Duvainwen said cheekily. "What does it matter how one came to know? We _do_ know and were convinced on the merits of the request to join you, overall. So don't worry."

"Sit, sit!" Gwendein urged her, already rubbing oils in her hand. "We are sure to be called upon soon to eat and leave, so let us hurry!"

It took about twenty minutes for Gwendein to sweep and pin up Rodwen's hair in a way that was satisfactory. But when the whole ordeal was done, Rodwen marveled at the neatness with which her hair was done and how comely she looked with silver bands crossing and peaking in and out of her hair. When everything was done, all four girls walked down to the dining hall, passing an astonished guard team in the midst of changing shifts. Thinking yourself attractive was always nice, but having to step over a few floor-bound jaws never hurt either.

Just as King Elessar had said, there was an elite group of guardsmen there, including Fuinron, Gimli, Legolas, and the Queen and her brothers. A few other servants were eating their morning meals as well but the main host for the journey was taking up the majority of the space. The girls sat down, across from the guardsmen and asked for what they wanted to eat from kitchen servants.

Rodwen remembered what Legolas had reminded her, regarding her weight. To avoid wasting away to the point of alarm, she made sure to consume just a bit more every meal. She asked for eggs with the yolks intact, sweet rolls, bacon, and summery fruits. Eating through the feeling of fullness was all she could do to convince both him and herself that she wasn't going crazy. But, honestly, she couldn't tell why she wanted to prove her sanity so badly to someone who would assuredly be gone from her life just as quickly as he had come. Knowing how temporary his presence was hurt more than is assessment of her physique. It hurt far worse than she had expected it to.

"You look nice," a coarse voice spoke to her, undeniably Fuinron's.

"Oh, thank you, my Lord." She sifted through her thoughts for something positive that she might say in return, despite the fact that no positive thoughts sprang to mind. "You look rather dignified as well."

It made her sick to have to act like nothing was wrong. So log had she practiced draining her face of all the hatred she felt. It drove her mad sometimes to hold it back.

"I would like to thank all of you for agreeing to attend me on this journey," Arwen spoke, sipping from a goblet filled with sweet nectar.

Everyone, almost in unison, began to meekly play down their decision to come. Loyalty to your sovereign, especially one so just in her own right, was not really worthy of being heralded.

"It would have been easier to stop us coming, your Grace," Gwendein said excitedly. "Oh, I heard and I knew I had to come! Who wouldn't come to your aid? You're sweet and kind and just so pretty…I'm rambling again. Sorry…but it is true!"

Rodwen couldn't help but giggle at the sheer animation of Gwendein. She was excited to leave, probably for more reasons than she could list herself. There were always just so many reasons for Gwendein to be bubbling over with joy. It was a vivacious energy that was well-deserving of envy.

Legolas turned towards Aragorn and began to ask his own questions.

"Has it been determined which path shall be taken towards Rivendell?"

Elladan and Elrohir shook their heads.

"It may be easiest to follow the river Anduin to the forests of Mirkwood. We cannot make the entire journey traversing the wilds. At some point, we must stop. The journey even that far will take at least four days," Elladan said.

"Another option for rest might be Rohan. However, it may be unwelcome, as King Éomer has not had so long to correct his own kingdom," Elrohir continued.

Aragorn responded in turn.

"If we had to rest in Mirkwood, would our company be welcomed?"

Legolas thought for a second, taking a sip of sweet cherry wine.

"My father would understand our mission as soon as I told him. It seems a bit late to send word, as a messenger would likely not be but a few hours ahead. However, if sending word would ease your mind, feel free to. My father assuredly would not treat the Men in our company as any less than Elves."

Such a suggestion made Rodwen look with a small amount of shock. She was barely comfortable in the presence of nobles her own race. Now she was almost surely going to meet the Elven King of Mirkwood and perhaps other Elven nobles. At first, she was prepared to meet Arwen's father, but his was just too much.

Aragorn waved over a servant and gave him the task of fetching a quill, ink and parchment so that he could draft up a request before coming.

"We may not receive a reply while on the way, but it would ease my mind to avoid any semblance of rudeness."

Legolas nodded.

Everyone continued to eat, knowing that soon the hot sun would be upon them in full force and they would be uncomfortable. Legolas, who had made a habit all his own of inquiring about her during meals, spoke to Rodwen while eating.

"Have you ever ridden a horse? I know that the past few years have not been the best to learn how to ride."

Fuinron took the words from her; in an almost insulted tone, he responded.

"Of course she knows," he quipped. "Doesn't she carry herself as a capable lady?"

For someone with so little kindness towards her father, he did not like the suggestion that Himel had not taught his daughters how to do such a crucial thing. Perhaps it was because Míria could ride very well (and that Rodwen looked so much like her) that he took such great offense. Whatever the case, his ire had been stoked.

"Certainly, she does. I meant not to suggest such a thing. I simply wanted to know if she would require assistance in her travels, as I would assist any lady who was in need of help."

"Well, I can tell you now that she can help herself," Fuinron smiled. It was a sarcastic and snide grin, making his contempt for the Elf's presumption known.

The hall got quiet. Colfindein leaned over to whisper in Rodwen's ear.

"What has him in so dour a mood?"

Rodwen's eyes drifted over to Fuinron for a moment, a gesture she was sure he noticed. A twinge of fear crept over her face, a look she was unaware that Legolas noticed. Well, if she was already in trouble, she couldn't make it any worse. She turned her head, obscuring her lip's movements with the tips of her fingers.

"Oh, he's seldom ever in a good mood. Pay it no heed. He's just…protective of the image of my parents." She would never say herself. Eru knows, he did no protecting of her.

"Like a father or something?" Gwendein whispered, leaning back over into an upright position. "I see," she allowed everyone to hear.

Gwendein placed her napkin atop her plate, leaning back in her chair.

"Well, this has been sufficiently awkward. Where might we place our belongings?"

"I could help you ladies move your belongings into the carriages, if you'd like," a male servant offered the women, giving them leave to get up and go back to their rooms.

Once far enough away, Gwendein burst out laughing, prompting her fellow maidens to do the same.

"Wow! He looked like he was a minute from pouncing on the poor Elf!"

"It isn't funny!" Rodwen pushed her lightly.

"Sorry! I'm sorry! It's just so funny. He really takes his guardianship seriously!"

"And a certain Elf seems oh so willing to help you," Duvainwen prodded. "You simply **must** tell us your secrets!"

Rodwen turned a horridly embarrassing shade of red. Legolas was much older than her and certainly didn't regard the young woman as anything other than a friend. The insinuation that he could like her any further bothered her significantly.

"He's just my friend. He's just about the first friend I've had in a long time. So please, don't make fun."

Duvainwen apologized and then began messing in Rodwen's hair.

"Why didn't you have any friends? Were you not nobility? Your mother had parties—" Colfindein started.

"Those weren't exactly for us. She lost a good portion of her own friends by marrying a man so far beneath her, at least in her parent's eyes. The parties were her way of keeping close to those who had not yet abandoned her. And those men and women had no children close to our age to talk to us."

"I see," Colfindein said.

"You see a lot of thing," Rodwen crossed her arms. "I feel as if you're judging me."

"No, I'm just curious. No one knows much at all about your family. You all really kept out of the public arena. I think your mother must have wanted to keep you out of court life until you were well-married and grown."

"Oh, yes. She never really wanted court life for us at all."

"But the grouch with the steely gaze does?" Gwendein asked.

"I never thought about it," Rodwen said, coming close to her door and unlocking it for the servant to gather her chests. "It was the least I could do to help him support us. Hurry up, ladies; the time for talk is over. We will be leaving soon."

So the women separated, each packing away the last of what they would bring. Rodwen shook Mellwen awake before she walked out. Groggily, her little sister sat up and cleared her eyes.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I'm leaving, sweet-heart. Give me a kiss goodbye."

Mellwen scooted closer, rubbing the embroidery on the stiff corset of her elder sister. She looked up, kissing her cheek.

"You'll be back soon?"

"You won't even have time to miss me. Now if you need anything, ask Faelrin. If she behaves like a brat, ask Acharnon. His post is near the front door. But try not to pester him at his post. Be safe and stay sweet. Alright?"

"I will. Stay safe," Mellwen responded.

"Definitely. If time permits, I shall write to you. I love you."

She hugged Mellwen with all her heart before tussling her hair and pushing her head down on the pillow.

"Now, get your rest."

She left before Mellwen could say anything else. Leaving was already hard. Trying to hold back from crying was testing her nervous capacity.

The carriage was loaded and Rodwen was given a horse to ride. It was tall, male, deep brown hair and with a full black mane. She got onto the saddle (which had been designed to help ladies in full dress) and began to trot close to Arwen.

"How are you this morning, my Lady?"

"Oh, I am fine. Soon I shall see my father again and I look forward to that. If only he could witness his grandchild. I understand why he does not linger."

"You made the only decision you could make. I know he understands," Rodwen comforted her. "Let's focus on enjoying our time out in the world, newly free of evil."

Arwen smiled, nodding gently.

"Of course," she said somberly.

Everything about the Queen's raiment was somber. She was dressed in black and grey, her dress encrusted with black pearls and her hair covered in the Gondorian style with a grey scarf. No doubt, Faelrin had helped her with that. Her horse was covered in the standard of Gondor, a black background with a white tree. Arwen looked as if she was marching off to a funeral. In a way, she was. She was burying that Elven portion of her life and stepping into mortality. She was also saying goodbye to her immortal father and for him, this meeting would be tantamount to burying the daughter he had raised all of these long years.

Colfindein and Duvainwen caught up to their new friend and helped to take Arwen's mind off of what was happening to her. The conversation also helped to keep their minds off of the sweltering heat of the summer sun. That Arwen had chosen to dress so darkly, knowing the weather, made the choice even more poignant.

A few hours of riding gently had taken them about thirty miles up the river Anduin. The entire time, the men and women had spoken separately. No doubt, due to Fuinron's outburst, Legolas had been reticent to discuss much of anything with Rodwen. She couldn't understand what the reason was that caused Legolas to caution Fuinron's ill-tempered nature, unaware that the caution was mainly for her sake. He, in fact, admitted as much to Aragorn as he, Elladan, Elrohir, Gimli and Aragorn spoke to each other.

"She cautions criticizing the man, even as he rudely interrupts her from answering the question," Legolas grumbled.

"What do you expect? He **is** her guardian, Master Elf," Gimli reminded him. "And from what I've gathered, he's known that family since before the girls were born. Perhaps he just took offence out of imagined slights upon her family."

"I agree. It would be most prudent to let the offense pass," Aragorn said. "He merely spoke in her defense."

Legolas didn't want to tell them of the face he saw her give, reluctant to betray any secrets. However, it was clear that Fuinron's protective nature was of no comfort to the Lady Rodwen. That look sent waves of passionate revulsion through him every time he saw it. For her sake, Legolas held his tongue. She didn't need any further prodding. But the issue wasn't over. Clearly, she needed more support than she would admit to him. 'What can I offer though?' he asked himself. Honestly, he had no clue.

"Still, she did appear rather stifled, did she not?" Elrohir added. "He takes a fatherly instinct a bit farther than necessary?"

"You all may be right," Legolas sighed. "I would still keep my eye on him."

"You think he may be dangerous?" Aragorn asked, truly curious of Legolas' opinion.

"That is not the case," Legolas responded. "I think he may take his fatherly duties to a point that stifles the young lady's growth. She still is so young, even younger than you."

"That I can agree on. Especially seein how the Knight-Captain favors her. I'll do what I am able to set his zeal at ease," Aragorn said, enjoying a breeze that ripped through his hair.

The air was cooling, carrying the sounds of hoof beats with it…separate hoof beats. They assaulted Legolas' eardrums. Turning his head to the left, he saw over the rolling hills a band of wild Men coming for them. Not thinking, Legolas grasped his longbow and notched an arrow, letting it fly. This action caught Aragorn's attention, causing him to grasp his sword hilt. The arrow appeared to vanish over the horizon until the wild Men began yelling.

"We're under attack!"

**Authoress Chat:**** That's all for now. I should update in the next couple of days. In the meantime, in-between time, please review. It makes me so happy. And it gives me something to do with all these freshly baked cookies… **


	10. Lesson 10- Enduring

**Lesson Ten- Enduring**

Gwendein had just told a joke that had all the female's giggling and holding their sides. It seemed like something out of a wretched dream, hearing Legolas announce that they were under attack. Rodwen's heart rate quickened, pounding against her rib cage and in her ears. The time seemed to distort around her. The women galloped ahead of the guards as they unsheathed their swords. For Rodwen, all she saw was red. Clanging metal, dying Men and red, seeping into the dirt…

"Come, silly girl!" Fuinron yelled over the confined fray, grasping her horse by the reins and pulling her out of danger.

She hadn't meant to lock up. She was just reminded of the violence perpetrated against her family. It startled. But feeling the steed move jolted her out of her haze. She rode like her father had taught her, far away from danger, catching up to Arwen, who was looking at her in utter shock. Arwen motioned delicately over her cheek. Rodwen didn't understand the gesture.

"Oh, child…your cheek has blood on it."

Rodwen brushed her face, surprised to find that it was not her own blood. 'It could so very easily be me who is wounded.'

Almost as quickly as the scrape had erupted, the Men of Gondor had snuffed it out. Obviously, the guardsmen accompanying them were well-versed in the art of war. The rag-tag group of wild bandits had never stood a chance. Fuinron galloped up to her, stopping hard.

"Are you hurt?" he asked with true concern. Whether or not the concern was for her or the state of her body was the real question.

"I'm fine. I just got scared," she said, looking away, ashamed.

"Are you certain?" he asked again, no worry absent from his tone. "I'll raise those bastards from the dead and strike them down again if they injured you."

'Clearly you mistake me for my mother,' Rodwen couldn't help but to think acerbically. However she felt about him, though, Fuinron had saved her life. And for once, he wasn't being cruel. If only for the sake of gratitude, she smiled softly.

"You can check if you like, but I assure you that I am quite well. Don't worry, please. I just want to keep moving."

Duvainwen looked at Rodwen with mistrust. It hadn't been an orc attack, but the lawless Men of the South weren't much better, not by a long shot. The opposing force had been speedily dispatched but what would stop more from coming? She had already consigned them to danger. They had better be kept safe and sound!

Aragorn came over on his horse to check on Arwen. Fortunately, _she_ had the presence of mind to avoid the line of fire. Still, knowing that both his wife and growing child were well set him at a place of relative peace. He cupped her face gently.

"You will tell me if anything comes to feel unusual, yes?"

"Of course," Arwen answered, sounding a bit more secure. "After all of this, I would rather move far ahead. Please for the sake of my ladies…"

Without many more words, Aragorn and his men took up the front of the company, while Legolas and Gimli (who were sharing a horse) along with Elladan and Elrohir took up the rear. Arwen, Aeriel and the human maids traveled securely in-between. Now that Legolas was closer to Rodwen and removed from Fuinron's proximity, he was determined to take the opportunity to see how his new friend was. He had been disturbed to see her fearful reaction that morning and his discomfort had only been exacerbated at seeing how poorly she reacted to the prospect of danger. It was like watching someone in a stupor after the sheer terror of witnessing war for the first time. She hardly drew breath, she shook like a leaf in the wind, and she made _that_ face…the one that he couldn't stand. It wasn't his place to insert himself in the affairs of Men, but something urged him to worry. Some sinister secret lurked beneath her jovial façade. By Elbereth, he would figure out what!

Rodwen was able to see Duvainwen out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze was scrutinizing, accusing without words. The sting of her acrimony was a weight on Rodwen's mind. The guilt for dragging Duvainwen into danger was eroding the guise of confidence that Rodwen tried so hard to maintain.

"Alright, can we just forget about the attack?" Gwendein curtly spoke, addressing the Oliphant in the field.

Duvainwen starred daggers into her friend.

"No, I think I'll keep reminding myself of how my life was placed in jeopardy, if you don't mind," she snapped back. "You knew my misgivings! You know—"

"We all knew the risks of coming. You knew that you could be confronted with evil and yet you still came," Colfindein said calmly, barely above a whisper.

"I thought serving your mistress was more important than your misgivings," Gwendein started, lacking her usual enthusiasm. "This was just a short-lived attack by an obvious group of imbeciles. So can we _please_ treat them as such?"

Rodwen glanced over at Arwen, who had a saddened expression on her face, yet was silent. This wasn't right; Her Majesty shouldn't have to deal with the attitudes of her handmaidens, no matter how justified they were. Perhaps another time would see Rodwen's feet held to the fire. For now, though, they were best off focusing on the task at hand. 'Time to act like the Chief Lady-in-Waiting,' she thought.

"Enough. I take responsibility in my part for asking you here, despite your aversion to the idea. We are here now, nonetheless, safe and sound. You will show the respect due to Her Grace and hold your offices faithfully." Rodwen paused, surprised that such authoritative utterances could come from her lips. "For my sake and your Lady's, please do as I ask," she tacked on.

Gwendein cut her an impressed expression, chuckling a little, ever understanding. She smiled.

"Very well," she laughed.

"Of course," Colfindein agreed.

"I shall do as you ask. Furthermore, I apologize, your Highness. I spoke out of turn. It won't happen again," Duvainwen answered with a tone as flat as the expression that took over her face. She had been shamed for her rash words, unwittingly so on Rodwen's part. In Rodwen's mind, she had handled what could have been a very emotionally difficult discussion in the best way possible. What would come from the chastisement would just have to come.

"I take no offense," Arwen replied kindly. "I did not foresee such an encounter, least of all so near the beginning of our journey. Let us talk of more cheerful things from the point going forward."

"A woman after my own heart!" Gwendein said, softly clapping her hands together. "So…Aeriel, you've been awfully quiet. Sovereign for your thoughts?"

Aeriel shook her head, laughing slightly at the joking concern. She hadn't noticed how quiet she had been along the way. Perhaps she just didn't feel quite up to the task, what with the idea of leaving the only home she had ever known. Despite all that, it was still her duty to be of some comfort to her lifelong mistress and up until then she had been failing miserably.

"You have to pardon my rude behavior. I do not intend to be so somber of heart; I only have thoughts of a life beyond all this plaguing my every thought. It is not often that I have thought so, and now this singular thought as commandeered my entire mind."

"I do wonder what the shores of Aman might look like. How might it feel to exist in a world that does not die, I think," Elrohir responded.

"How did it look when all the world lay in darkness, aside from Elbereth's stars and the light of the Two Trees?" Legolas peered forward, alert, yet possessing a face full of reminiscence.

Rodwen felt lost. She had never heard of the two trees. She didn't know why Legolas seemed so reverent of them. They gave off light, he said? They came before the sun and moon? She chocked it up to Elven lore and let it go, not willing to give the proof of how ignorant she was of days long forgotten. Any Elf could more than qualify as a historian of legend. That was a fine task and skill for some being so long lived. However, it was none of her affair what lit the sky first. She could only revere the sun and moon, for that was all that her brief existence would ever allow her to witness. He knew that and so did she. To call attention to that fact was a thing she was unprepared to do.

"I bet that it looked beautiful," Gwendein chirped, gleefully over-annunciating the word 'beautiful.'

"It is widely rumored that my grandmother's hair has captured the light of the Twin Trees and that is what makes her hair so radiant," Arwen said, smiling demurely.

"You have a grandmother?" Rodwen asked skeptically, without much thought, and instantly regretted it. "I mean, you look so young. I know that your father is Lord Elrond but I have no idea who fathered him or your mother, Celebrían."

"It is quite alright. In fact, my grandmother is Lady Galadriel, the White Lady of Lothlórien. Did you not gaze upon her at my wedding?"

Rodwen shuffled through all of her memories of that day, trying to remember an Elf dressed in all white. Then she remembered she had seen such an Elf, the same Elf who had invaded her mind! The woman who looked so regal, who made her seethe at the notion that an Elf could stand so tall above the suffering of the Men around her!

"Yes, I remember her," she said plainly, in an attempt to hide away the deep loathing that she felt.

Actually, it was a pristine mixture of loathing and fear. What would such an Elf find in her mind? Would her shame be exposed? Had she already peered inside of her secret thoughts? Galadriel… Just thinking the name made Rodwen's hairs stand on end.

"She, in fact, convinced me to look your way. She told me that a young woman would come to me seeking to serve. She told me that it would help you and, by proxy, me."

Rodwen looked over, surprised by such an admission. Arwen glanced over her shoulder, aware that her handmaid was probably shocked by such news.

"Of course, I was ultimately convinced by meeting you. I do think of you very fondly, at least as fondly as I can for knowing you as long as have."

"I wonder how Mellwen is doing without you," Aeriel said.

"Yes, that also concerns me," Rodwen stated breathlessly, looking over the horizon.

/ / / / /

Mellwen didn't get up until well after the sun had risen, when it was nearly at the crux of the sky. She had been terrified for a long time by the prospect of Fuinron catching her "wasting the day away." Sleep was now a prized commodity for the little girl. It wasn't bad enough that she had to contend with the horrors of the night, but now she also had to contend with the restless noises that her sister made in her sleep. Sitting up, Mellwen took a full inhale of the free mid-morning air.

She just vaguely remembered her sister coming to say her goodbyes this morning. The sun had been barely peeking through the minute cracks between tapestry and window. She just remembered groggily assuring her sister that she wouldn't be troubled by her absence. That was the mature angle to take. But it was fairly obvious to Mellwen, even then, that neither she nor her sister wanted to betray their rawest feelings about the situation. This would be the longest stretch of time that the siblings had ever spent apart. It was frightening, exhilarating, and joyful; it was a strange amalgamation of overpowering emotions. Hopefully they could all coexist together in such a way as to engender happiness.

Crawling out of a bed slightly too tall for her growing body. Mellwen grabbed a washcloth and small swatch of cloth, along with a marble container of a sage and salt tooth polish. She had to wait for access to the water closet, as it was being cleaned by a stern brown-haired servant woman with sleep in her eyes. Mellwen tried to drum up a dialogue with the woman, to save herself some boredom, but the woman had no words for her. So Mellwen contented herself to lean against the wall, waiting to do her business. At least in one way, her experiences had not been changed so drastically. Being neither definitively child nor adult, both age groups took to collectively ignoring her. A tear fell of its own accord as she was let into the closet as last. She closed the door with a faint click.

It had gone without saying that this would be a very lonely time for Mellwen.

Once she had cleaned up a bit, Mellwen put on the soft green dress that her sister brought for her before coming to court. It took a lot longer to do her hair by herself, as she struggled with the knot-inclined nature of her tresses. Despite her troubles, she was still able to put two flat twists, one on either side of her head, tying the loose hairs into a braided bun. It took about all of Rodwen's long silver pins to keep the bun in place, but once it was all said and done, she couldn't suppress the gratifying aura of accomplishment pouring out of her. She put on simple white lacy shoes with a slight heel and exited to find something to eat. She was famished!

With all of her might, she tried to remember what Rodwen had said. 'Faelrin is to look after me…if she refuses…Acharnon…front door…don't be a pest.'

Coming to the end of the hall, towards the main entrance, there were two guardsmen. Mellwen was fairly certain that she had seen this Acharnon fellow in Rodwen's company before, but placing a finger on where was proving a challenge. Either way, she had a half-and-half shot of choosing the correct guard to "pester."

"Excuse me, but could you tell me which of you Acharnon is?" Mellwen asked in a slightly subdued voice.

The two of them exchanged looks, seemingly having a conversation with their eyebrows and various facial tics. Finally, one of them faced forward and told her the news.

"My tiny lady, he is no longer at this post."

She looked disappointed.

"Why is that?" she desperately tried to mimic her sister. Maybe if she spoke more formally, they would view her as a more mature girl. For the sake of the Valar, she was turning eleven soon! No more 'tiny mistresses' or 'young ladies.' 'My lady' would do just fine.

Always having a fairly expressive face, the soldier who had answered her was made quite aware of the fact that Mellwen didn't much care for being patronized. This time, he answered her in the formal way that she seemed to be yearning for.

"He has temporarily become the Knight Commander. As such, my Lady, he has been reassigned to a closer post to the Steward. I could show you where the royal bedchamber is, if you so require it."

Getting her way made Mellwen smile, especially because she didn't have to assert herself so strongly to achieve such fantastic results.

"There's no need, sir. I do know the way, as I have been there before. I just have one more question…" Right on cue, her stomach growled loudly. "What's in the dining hall to eat?"

/ / / / /

A little bit after the mid-day sun had started its descent, the company all stopped to catch a quick meal. Quick was a very accurate description, due to the fact that a true fire couldn't be started to heat up any meat or make any sort of thick soup. Instead, they ate from some Elven bread that had been made by Aeriel a few days in advance, and a small array of nuts and dried berries.

Rodwen couldn't tell if Fuinron was just committed to his job or eager to make a good impression as the new Knight Commander, but either way he refused to sit down even for a moment and did not afford his men the option either. It brought her comfort to see him uncomfortable, even if it was a self-imposed strain. Turning back to her tiny plate, she marveled at how full she felt after eating just half of Aeriel's bread.

"Is something wrong?" Aeriel asked her politely. "Did I give you too much?"

"That may be so. I feel like I couldn't suffer another bite. I'm sorry. I don't want to waste any of your food or be mistaken for an ingrate. I did enjoy it."

"Oh, you need not explain that to me. I simply thought that such a portion would suit you. If you would like me to set it aside for later, I can," Aeriel offered. "Lembas does not tend to become old so fast."

"Thank you," Rodwen said, handing her the plate. "I appreciate your generosity."

Aeriel got up and walked to the carriage where she had taken the food and began to wrap it in brown paper. Everyone was busy having conversations with each other but, so far, Aeriel was the only person who had talked to her. Gwendein had been pulled aside by Colfindein and Duvainwen (most likely so they could gossip about her). Aragorn had taken a seat next to Arwen and it seemed that he was checking up on her mental and physical health, as he couldn't stop and do previously. The twin brothers were chatting about something with each other, while mulling over a map. They were probably trying to figure how long it would take until they reached their destination. Aeriel and Legolas looked to be having sporadic conversations. She was the odd one out.

Not exactly surprised by feeling alienated, Rodwen walked over to the carriage and rummaged through her belongings for a tiny book of poems. Finding it placed on the very top, she picked it out of her chest and sat down on the back end of the cart, reading to take her mind off of her loneliness.

_Elbereth's Stars Shine,_

_Lighting Up the World Below._

_Her Hair Reflects That._

'_Glow Infinitely'_

_I Pray Silently Inside._

_Somehow, She Agrees._

_~Anonymous_

The sun was blocked out suddenly, causing her to look up. She was surprised to have Legolas standing in front of her. He had talked to her in a group setting but had not come this close to her since they had initially met. He smelled like calla lilies and the forest. Did all Elves smell that way, like they had just jumped down from a nap in the canopy of a tree?

"Yes? Can I help you, Master Legolas?"

Legolas was usually able to keep his emotions to himself, but the disheartening shock of hearing his name attached to a title had taken him aback. Were they not friends, she and he? He had certainly never formally introduced himself as a noble, though he would like to think that was some noble principle about his actions. It would seem that he had overestimated the depth of their relationship.

"I just wanted to see how it is that you do, Lady Rodwen," he responded using her title. "I was concerned to see you so shaken."

Rodwen's heart sank to the bottom of her chest at his response. She had pondered whether or not they be friends; for that reason alone, she had purposely used a formal title to address him. He had looked surprised that she had utilized such an address, but if he objected she did not know. What was perfectly clear now was that he was just a temporary companion. It hurt because even though she put him in this position and knew that he might be just exhibiting polite manners, a fragment of her lonely heart had hoped that he would just call her by her name. 'I had hoped to know without having to ask directly. Well, now I know!' she thought bitterly.

"You don't have to be so kind to me. I'm reading because I want to be, that's all. Thank you for the concern."

Feeling the ice-cold wall go up between him and her heart, Legolas thought it best to withdraw. 'Maybe she could use some time to herself, without questioning. I will try later.'

"If you need to talk at any time, I will be there to listen."

Rodwen nodded, trying to believe that he would. But, somehow, it just seemed impossible. If she pursued a friendship now, it would only hurt when it was yanked away later. 'Just look at how quickly it took for Duvainwen to withdraw from me!'

Without another word, Legolas gave her a slight bow and walked away.

/ / / / /

Mellwen sat in a mostly empty dining hall, nibbling on her food. She had managed to wait until lunch and not devour her food like a mad-woman. Still, she single-handedly finished off three pastrami sandwiches and a slice of lemon cake. Without Rodwen, no one would pay her any mind. She tired of playing by herself all day. Fuinron had been right to encourage her to take up a craft. Maybe she would try some more needle work while her sister was away.

Suddenly, some man in the guardsman uniform walked through the doors of the hall. He had bright blue eyes and a shining, well-kempt head of brown hair. He smiled at her, catching her off-guard.

"I hear that a special someone has been asking for me," he said loudly.

Mellwen looked to her left and right and then back at him, pointing to herself. She swallowed the food that was in her mouth.

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you," he said, walking over and sitting next to her. He was kind and spoke to her with the utmost respect. "So, _you _are Lady Mellwen, sister to the heir of Himel's household. It is an honor to meet you."

"The same to you, my Lord. My sister said that I should seek you out if I was bored, and believe me, I'm bored."

"Wasn't Faelrin charged with caring for you in her Lady's absence?"

Mellwen blushed, caught in a half-truth.

"Well…yes and no. I was told to seek out either one of you, but Faelrin seemed a bit 'angry that I exist'. Her words, not mine, I assure you."

Acharnon tried to hold it in, but couldn't help but to laugh. Rodwen clearly wasn't the only of Himel's daughters with a glowing sense of humor and charm.

"That may be true," he admitted. "I'm not certain that she's happy much exists at all. I gave my post over to the guard underneath me to meet you—"

"To meet me?" Mellwen interrupted. "I'm sure you have equally selfish reasons for wanting to find me, as I had to finding you. So what do _you _need of _me_?"

Acharnon grabbed the side of his head, turning away as he flushed from mortifying embarrassment. Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a great idea. Even so, he had to know!

"What can you tell me about your sister?"

"What are you trying to find out?" Mellwen asked, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. She knew where this was going, but it was too humorous to watch him squirm than to just tell him what he wanted to know.

"I want to know how she is…what she likes…if she's courting anyone else—"

Mellwen had herself a ripe laugh before blurting out a little too excitedly, "Oh me, oh my, you like my sister! Well, you just sit back, because I have a lot to tell you!"

**Authoress Chat:**** I couldn't resist the urge. I felt as if it would be unfair to just drop Mellwen off to the side while our heroine braves the newly freed wilds. Also, I am rather surprised by how much people like both sisters. I didn't write her thinking people would think she was so cute. I just wrote her like a girl balancing her feelings and the feelings of the only family she has left. **

**Anywho, make sure to review, cause it makes me want to write more. Come on, I wrote like 4000 words, for Leggy's sake!**


	11. Lesson 11- Finding a Reason

**Authoress Chat****: Hello there, faithful fans. I must apologize profusely for my absence. Most of this chapter was finished about a month ago. Work kept me from typing it up and finishing the chapter. I'm so glad that everyone wants more from me, so I'm pleased to give it to you. I'm glad that I haven't scarred anyone for life. So without further ado…**

**Lesson Eleven- Finding a Reason**

Aragorn did not call for another break until the sun was close to set. By the light of the pink twilight, the women got out a nice pot and set it up to begin cooking some soup; meanwhile, the males helped each other pitch some of the tents. As Rodwen began taking out some vegetables to peel, she thought of how she had been reduced to living up until very recently.

Rodwen's hands had never touched a pot until three months ago. It had been a shock to find that she could prepare food that didn't taste like the wrong end of an orc. Her whole life, servants had made food for her family. It wasn't until Míria had begun to lose her mind that the servants began to leave. And once both parents were gone and no money was in the custody of the sisters, they altogether abandoned them. The meals had gotten slowly better as she failed several attempts to make recipes other than bread and soup or salad. Having to cook so simply again filled her with a pang of sorrow and, oddly, pride. Perhaps her cooking would be enough to satisfy such a generous Queen.

Rodwen sat apart from her fellow maidens, still riddled with guilt. Legolas had told her to try and trust others. But what did it matter if others did not trust her in return? Factoring in how distant Legolas had seemed she had even thought of her companions that way, she shook her head and continued peeling potatoes. 'They were never yours. You can't force them to like who you are…'

Plopping the potatoes into the water to boil, Rodwen walked shyly over to the girls and quietly inquired whether they were prepared to add in their ingredients. Only Gwendein smiled at her, and then (in typical Gwendein fashion) began to bubble over with conversation.

"Here you go! Hopefully once we have cooked the meat and can combine the stock we will have something truly delicious!" Gwendein paused just long enough to catch a breath. "Perhaps we should visit our male counterparts? They've been cooking some little rabbits that the twins shot. Oh, please say that we have your permission, your Grace!" she shouted, halfway asking, begging. Gwendein had a smile that made others want to smile as well.

Arwen had noticed how withdrawn Rodwen was all day, even more so than she naturally was. She also knew that Fuinron and Legolas were both very concerned for her safety and comfort. Though Arwen still felt better to have Rodwen in her company, she would never feel good about hogging her all to herself while a friend felt so low.

"Of course, you may. Do not worry about things here. I still have three able-bodied mistresses to help me stir the pot." Arwen smiled very prettily, for the first time that day.

Rodwen, extremely grateful, curtsied and then Gwendein took her by the arm, giggling, and ran over to the fire by the men. Gwendein leaned over to whisper in her ear while they went over.

"I thought you could use a break from Duvainwen's attitude."

The men were in the middle of talking when Gwendein scooted in between Gimli and Fuinron. Legolas was sitting almost directly opposite to Fuinron, she noticed. Legolas had been silently spinning the rabbits over the pit but he had almost been locking eyes with Fuinron the whole time. Rodwen took notice of the mistrust between them and shut her eyes, briefly praying to the Valar that Fuinron wouldn't take it out on her. Both males were prideful and wouldn't appreciate being challenged. She also prayed that Legolas would never discover her secrets.

"So…how are you, gentlemen?" Gwendein asked, looking around. She always seemed oblivious to strife.

"As well as can be expected, Mistress Gwendein," Gimli responded courteously.

Aragorn seemed wrapped up in though before smiling and nodding.

"We're all very well, but very tired. The rabbits look almost done. Once the meal is done, I believe I'll be ready to retire for the night." He rubbed his eyes wearily.

Still glaring daggers into one another, Legolas and Fuinron responded.

"I am well," Legolas said, with a hint of irritation.

"I'm just fine," Fuinron answered curtly, intensely focused on winning his impromptu starring match.

Rodwen couldn't focus, not with the sound of her blood rushing through her ears. It felt like she would fall apart under the scrutiny of all the eyes that were on her. Two, four, six…Fuinron, Legolas, Gimli…each curious to why she looked so scared. Her gaze drifted to any and everything that she could do to look normal and unafraid. The fire crackled lower than it should, the rabbits were bound slightly askew, the seasoning weakly scattered across them. 'Pick one!' she urged herself, trapped within her frazzled brain. She finally chose the rabbits. Casting her eyes downward towards the string used to bind the animals; she gathered a few small pieces and walked over towards the pit, dropping to her knees to fix their drooping legs.

"Be careful," Elladan said to her. "We wouldn't want you burning your hands or worse."

With her eyes focused away from others, Rodwen found it infinitely easier to make conversation, to respond. She gazed towards the twins from the corner of her eye.

"Thank you for the concern, but I've done this before. I won't hurt myself, I promise. I just thought fixing the strings would help to ensure the consistency of the cooking. Don't you agree?"

"At least allow someone to assist you," Elrohir suggested. "It would ease our minds to know that every precaution was taken to ensure that a lady was kept from any harm."

Reluctantly, Rodwen raised her head to give a weak and sullen smile.

"If you wish, I won't stop you."

A roil of triumphant pleasure swam through Fuinron's blood. To see her so wary of enraging him made him incalculably satisfied…satisfied that she was bent in all the right ways to his will, satisfied that she was prepared to be broken. She was so resilient, so fair and proud. He only needed one of her defining traits to remain. Her basest nature was to be fragile and skittish. One more push, maybe two. He had never seen a woman last so long or endure so much. To finally see her accept his game of cat and mouse as an obscene fact of life stirred passion in his loins. And then there were the gallant men at court, this posturing Elf before him, challenging him to leave the poor mouse alone. His game would be most interesting from this point on.

Legolas gazed gently upon Rodwen as a lock of her deep brown hair fell over her shoulder. Elrohir had knelt beside her and tied up one of the rabbits, while she helped with the other. Legolas couldn't help but notice, as he was forced to spinning the spit. She seemed to hum, rather than answer with her words, regarding any conversation that the peredhil tried to drum up. It was a gentle sound, equally as gentle as her usual countenance. To see her so helpful and kind made him all the angrier at Fuinron's suspicious and vulgar treatment of her. She seemed more like a prisoner than any sort of ward of his. She wasn't going to learn to trust anyone again if every friendly presence was treated with scorn and derision. The more time Legolas spent in this man's presence, the more he was sure that he would hate him. Aragorn had tried to quell the growing discomfort in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't working.

Out of the growing quiet, Gwendein began to talk. She was good at cutting tension, utilizing the sharp blade of her optimism.

"On warm nights like this, isn't it an unwritten rule that there must be song? I'm in a powerful mood for a song. Is there anyone who feels like singing with me?"

The Elves among them looked up towards her and Aeriel came up from the women's side of the camp.

"I would sing with you, if you need an accompanying voice. Do you sing treble or alto?"

"What would you say that I sing? I'll guess what you sing if you guess for me," Gwendein leaned backwards, grinning cheerily.

Aeriel looked a bit confused for a second, before finally responding with an assured 'a-ha!'

"You probably a treble. Was I correct?"

Gwendein giggled.

"Was it my laugh that gave it away? In any case, you're right. I don't see you singing a high note regularly. Alto?"

"I see you were not made the chief songstress purely by chance. Did you have a particular song in mind?"

Gwendein tilted her head up towards the glittering, countless stars, held abreast by a magic older than any mortal could comprehend.

"I do know one such melody. I heard it first as a child. Some may learn to sing it in Sindarin, but I am not nearly so privileged."

Aeriel sat on the ground beside Gwendein's feet.

"If you begin to sing, I may accompany you with the correct words. Who knows; I might even know of it. Are you ready?"

Gwendein let out an excited squeal and began to sing. Rodwen instantly knew what song it was. This was a hymn to Elbereth, Fanuilos, and Snow-White Lady of the Heavens. Mothers of Gondor passed it down like a sacred gift to their children, sort of like a lullaby. Rodwen knew the words in Elvish, but couldn't seem to muster the courage to utter them.

_Snow White! Snow White! Oh Lady Clear!_

_O Queen beyond the Western Sea!_

Aeriel quickly caught on, singing in a slightly lower, steady pitch.

_Calad amen I reniar_

_Mi'aladhremmin ennorath!_

It was hard not to remember what her mother was like when she was happier. A thought that lifted her spirits also crushed them. She felt compelled to sing along, if only to feel like the words were hers too, even after everything that had happened. However, Rodwen hardly felt worthy. She was no singer, for certain. And to pretend otherwise would only embarrass her.

It wasn't long before Arwen, Duvainwen and Colfindein had left the pot to simmer alone and gathered around to hear. Gwendein really did have a clear and lovely voice, capable of extremely high notes. And Aeriel's voice was breathy, light and steady, like she was speaking the words through a metal flute. It was a wonder that Arwen did not join in, but perhaps it was better that she just enjoy the company of those whom she had brought along with her. Rather surprisingly, Legolas and Aragorn began to accompany them. They were both warm, inviting tenors. Aragorn hadn't been raised within the world of Men. Perhaps that was why he knew the song in such perfect Sindarin.

Everyone was so confident.

_O stars that in the sunless year_

_With shining hand by thee were sown_

The Men filled in the lyrics with the appropriate Elvish.

_Si silivrin ne pherth 'waewib_

_Cenim lyth thílyn thuiennin_

Swallowing the lump of nerves that were stuck in her throat, Rodwen finally decided that, yes, she would sing along. Perhaps among such flawless song, her tiny imperfections might be overlooked. Gwendein was still singing.

_O Elbereth Gilthoniel!_

Shakily, Rodwen sang her voice faltering and getting lost in the beauty of the voices around her. Well, almost lost. Legolas was intrigued. Her voice was far from fair, but the try was earnest. And, for a human woman, her Sindarin was especially well-articulated. She too knew this song. Why then had she never attempted to converse with the Elves as they spoke in their native tongue?

_Men echenim sí deerthiel_

_Ne chaered hen nu'aladhath_

_Ngilith or annún-aearath…_

Shaking her head solemnly, Rodwen quietly got up and went back to Arwen's camp to check on the soup.

/ / / / /

Mellwen spent the rest of the day nearly attached to Acharnon's side. At first, the attachment had been unwelcomed. Mellwen simply drifted in and out of his past, firmly outside the doors to the throne room. She hadn't attempted talking to him at all, she just watched. Finally, something clicked in his brain that she was really just lonely. Court was not a place for children, by the sheer lack of youth to be found. It was a place for the cultured and deranged to intermingle in the hopes that civility would win out over vile, greedy persuasion. With that fact in mind, Acharnon found it easier to allow her to linger.

Mellwen had a rather cheerful and distinctly mature disposition. Once Acharnon acknowledged her, she stopped pacing and started talking. Through his discussion with her, he was most surprised. He didn't know why he had pegged her for such a childish creature. Mellwen was smart. She wanted to discuss his profession, his interests, and her fears for the future and other topics that he thought well beyond her years.

Acharnon was an only child, whose mother had perished soon after miscarrying with his sister. She had caught an infection and nothing seemed to make her better or ease her discomfort. He had been twelve when his mother died and took it very hard. After the war had taken place, he heard what had happened to the House of Himel. He thought of the sister who had just begun to grow hair when she passed. When he finally met the esteemed pair, Acharnon had been surprised at how pretty Rodwen was. He had written home to his father about possibly engaging in further conversation and that was why he had final gathered the nerve to inquire about her. Rodwen was from a family of means, of old nobility. Compared to her, his lineage was barely noteworthy. He had expected poise and wit from Rodwen, but to find it in her sister was unexpected. He had never met his own sister. He liked to think of Mellwen as what he has hoped his sister would become.

Mellwen had just finished telling him a bit about how her sister was a lover of poetry and would come up with stories to tell her sister before bedtime. A few years ago, for her birthday, their parents had purchased a larger leather tome for Rodwen to write down her tales. Every night Rodwen would read to her until she fell would read until she fell asleep. Since her sister had been gone, Mellwen missed her terribly.

"I know that she told me I wouldn't have the time to miss her but I know that isn't exactly true. She doesn't _want _me to miss her, because she has no idea how long she'll be gone. And she worries about my feelings, even past concern for her own self."

Acharnon smiled warily, leaning his head to the side. To know that he had pegged his interest correctly was soothingly gratifying. If he was expected to marry, as so many of his fellow guards had done before him, he would be glad if his wife was honorable in both title and action.

Mellwen looked up at him with an inquisitive stare. At one time, Acharnon thought he might know what types of thoughts were floating in her head, but now he wasn't sure. She was wholly more complex than he had imagined. Strangely enough, he was glad to have talked to her more and had the feeling that they would be close to one another.

/ / / / /

While the men helped to clean up the camp and the pot that the soup had been cooked in, the women took turns bathing their selves. It wasn't much in the way of hygiene, just a gentle scrub with some water from the great river. It was just enough for them to wash off the top layer of sweat from a day of riding in the hot sun.

Not unlike at court, the men slept in one end of camp, while the women slept in the other. However, the Queen slept with her ladies and the King slept with his guard. It was difficult to fall asleep for Rodwen, as she was terrified of talking or screaming in her sleep. Fuinron had the first watch of the night and she didn't want to fall asleep while he was wide awake. She could count on him not to attempt anything foolish, but the mere knowledge that he was just outside of her place of rest shook her wholeheartedly. Even more important than appearing sane to Her Majesty was appearing unafraid to a man who filled her with terror.

As soon as the others had gone to bed, Rodwen crept out of her sleeping bag and watched Fuinron at the fire. Being freer out in nature made him emboldened. He was openly hostile to any male who showed her the slightest favor. She wanted to observe how he reacted to his watch partner, the tireless Legolas.

Thinking back on it, Rodwen had never seen the Elves among them very tired at all. They always seemed a bit aloof concerning the troubles of mankind. They barely spoke, and only used enough words to convey a point. They observed. They were calculating creatures, she surmised. And in her mind it was hard not to equate their aloof calculations with Fuinron's own cold brand of observation. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, forcing her heart rate to slow.

'I shouldn't think things of that nature,' she chided herself. 'Legolas has done nothing to prove himself a monster such as Fuinron. Remain vigilant, avoid paranoia…'

Legolas starred at Fuinron out of the corner of his eye. Fuinron seemed fixated on the tent in which the ladies were sleeping. Aragorn had urged his friend not to take a shift with Fuinron, if only to avoid an altercation. For the disquiet that churned inside of him, Legolas found it impossible to agree to such terms. He gave his word that he would not let his emotions sway his judgment. He wanted very much for his misgivings to be unfounded and laid to rest. In order to do that, he would _have _to talk to Fuinron. After all, had not a dwarf (the least likely companion of an Elf) become one of his best friends due to his stubbornness and pride aside? Surely, Fuinron could be afforded the same benefit of doubt.

"You are concerned for her," Legolas said abruptly. It was meant as a question but for some reason was far more declarative.

Fuinron turned around towards the Elf, running a hand through his salt and pepper bread. His eyes narrowed briefly before he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Why yes, I suppose that I do. After all, had you not shot down that wild man, I'm fairly certain he would have tried to decapitate her. They're good ones for that sort of treatment."

Rodwen was shocked to hear that her life was in worse danger than she had previously assumed. Had she really checked out that much? Did she really not notice a lumbering wild man charging in to take her head off? 'He saved me?' she thought. 'That would explain the need for Fuinron to compete with him.'

"Did you suspect such a thing of happening?" Legolas asked suspiciously. His suspicion did not go unnoticed.

"How could I not? How long have you patrolled the lands outside of Mirkwood? What did you see in the war? What has _she_ seen? As much as it might astound you to know, I actually do know my ward better than you. I was vigilant where the wild men were concerned because I know that they have not all dispersed. Do you have any more inane questions with which to bother me?"

Legolas' nostrils flared before retorting with equal snideness.

"Just one: why do you insist on behaving like a guard dog rather than a guardian?"

Both males shot up, making Rodwen scoot back from the crack in the sheets of the tent. This might get ugly and Rodwen wanted to be father away in case anything happened.

Legolas and Fuinron stepped within swinging distance of one another, each with a look of determination.

"You think I treat her poorly? Was I not entrusted to guard her? Have I not done so?"

"You protect her, surely, but most of all from other people. That girl is terrified of you!" Legolas said in a low, threatening tone. So much for his promise.

"She respects my opinions, as she should. I don't know how Elves raise their women, but we certainly differ in our methods. I protect her from the vultures at court, Elf and Man alike!"

Legolas got closer, beginning to really lose his temper.

"If you think that Elves want for any of her worldly goods, you shall be sadly mistaken. You will not be cruel to her another moment in my presence or we will have more than words," Legolas said, before turning to walk away.

Fuinron smirked, shouting towards him in Sindarin a phrase that Rodwen did not know.

"I welcome a challenge from you in battle," Legolas understood.

Looking back over his shoulder, he answered; again in words that Rodwen didn't know.

"If it comes to that, you will not welcome me, mortal."

Seeing them both sit back down and continue her shift, Rodwen finally crawled back into her sleeping bag. She pulled it up as far as it would go, over her mouth and nose, and whimpered before shutting her eyes. The outcome of this fight would not be determined until a later date, she thought before drifting off to sleep. It would not be an outcome in her favor.

**Authoress Chat****: Hopefully you enjoyed this. Review please! And let me know what you think about what's occurring. I pretty much have what I want to happen mapped out. All that's in the air is the wording.**


	12. Lesson 12- Appeasement

**Authoress Chat****: Howdy folks! I've been on a major writing bender. This summer I was solely focused on watching at least 40 children a day, so I really couldn't write like I wanted. I meant what I said; I pretty much know exactly how this is going to play itself out. TinaMaki, thank you for the lovely reviews. I shall try not to be too depressing. And to Sarafinja, I am so glad that you like it. It's refreshing to know that readers are actively trying to figure it out. I try to write every detail with a purpose behind it that can be utilized later. Bearing that in mind, let us get started.**

**Lesson Twelve- Appeasement**

It took three more days of traveling before the first horses set their hooves in Mirkwood. The forest canopy was thick, obscuring the minimal amount of light still left in the sky. For three days, neither Duvainwen nor Fuinron had uttered a word in Rodwen's direction. A few times, Rodwen felt grateful to have Gwendein and Legolas around to help her. Gwendein was like a natural deterrent to strife and Legolas' threat (though unintelligible) seemed to put Fuinron in his place for a while.

It had been several days since anyone had bathed themselves. The push to make it through the wilderness quickly had prevented little more than a hot bucket of water per camp from being recourse for them. Everybody was weary and sore from extended traveling hours and limited sleep. At least they were in Thranduil's territory now. Even a brief nap beneath the trees would be a welcome respite from the ordeal that had been suffered to make it there.

Aragorn deferred to Legolas from this point on. Aragorn had very limited experience with the greenwood but if they wished to avoid agitating the Elves here, who were undoubtedly hiding among the trees, Legolas was most likely to know how. Aragorn had not forgotten how the Elves of Lothlórien had treated the Fellowship for trespassing and although King Thranduil was notoriously amiable towards the humans who surrounded him, he was still wary of outsiders.

"Those who are still alert should stand guard. The forest was purged of the evil that Sauron cast on it, but there are other creatures that lurk here. We may at any moment come upon one of my kind. It would be best not to be taken at unawares."

"Should we bother setting a camp?" Gimli questioned.

Legolas thought for a moment.

"No. We should only pause for a few hours before moving onwards." He didn't want to mention the spiders. His people might be scouting for them, wherever they might be, but caution was still their best defense in the meantime. "Sleep as much as you can. We move forward shortly."

Rodwen unfurled first the Queen's sleeping bag and then hers. She lied down in between the deep roots of a tree and tried to get herself in the frame of mind to drift to sleep. It was difficult to sleep here. Elven eyes might see well, but Rodwen could barely manage to see ten feet in front of herself. Fuinron hadn't said a word to her for _three days_. He hadn't stared at her, he hadn't squeezed a thigh when he thought no one was looking, he wasn't mean, nasty or rude…he was just silent. The less he spoke, the more certain she was that he was planning something foul. It had been days since he had hit her or touched her. When next he confronted her, it would be an encounter to make her truly fearful.

'At least in the realm of these Elves, Fuinron can't do much to me.'

Rodwen finally got to a place of enough peace to slip quietly into sleep. She had been too wrapt in thought to sleep well in days before but today her body just gave up. Her body melted to the forest floor, stiff as a board. The trees smelled just like Legolas. The ground smelled like safety. A deep, throaty, lustful voice echoed in her dreams, assuring her of her security. It wasn't Fuinron's voice. It wasn't his hands gently cupping her tender breasts and sex. He wasn't capable of so tender a touch His tongue licked deep in the nape of her neck, causing her to whimper. His hand left her breast to cradle her face as he sucked her sweet spot. Rodwen started to pant. He couldn't keep going like this, teasing her but never allowing her to see who he was. This man was a god! He moaned in her ear, rubbing her clitoris, his stiff erection pressing into her back. Her hips bucked against his hand but he held her still. She started to cry out before she was shaken awake.

"Ah!" she screamed.

"Are you alright, Lady Rodwen?"

She shook her head clear of sleep and desire, trying to give her eyes time to adjust to the darkness. In the dim moonlight, Rodwen saw gold gleam off of his long hair. Legolas had woken her up?

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping sweat off her brow. "Was I loud?"

Legolas smiled slightly.

"You seemed troubled. Were you having a nightmare?"

His hand touched her shoulder, sending a wave of shame through her and, oddly, want.

"Of course. Don't concern yourself with me."

Rodwen looked up at him. She could barely see his face, but what she saw was inviting and friendly. She looked around, left and right. Everyone else was sleeping, Fuinron included. This was her chance to do as Legolas had said and befriend people, befriend him.

"May we speak?" she asked, starring at his silhouette.

"Of course," Legolas sat down by her sleeping bag.

"I saw you…talking to Fuinron the other night, I saw you." Rodwen paused to gather her thoughts in the right way. "He speaks Sindarin much more fluidly than I. What were you arguing about?"

She already knew one part of it, but once it got to Elvish it was incomprehensible. She had to know for sure why Fuinron had been so subdued these last few days. She needed to know how bad that his retribution would be.

"We had a disagreement over his treatment of you. It is of little note. The issue seems to have resolved itself."

If only she was truthful, Rodwen would be free to express how she really felt without sounding like a crazy person. In her mind, she was livid. Her gut instinct had been right all along; Legolas had threatened him or vice-versa. Who would be the one to suffer? Fuinron, though high-strung wasn't idiotic enough to do anything to her on their travels. But the moment that he felt safe to do so, he would strike without pause or mercy. She wanted to scream at him and ask him how he could betray her and cause her this pain. Because she had withheld the true barbarousness of Fuinron's nature, she was forced to pretend as if Legolas' veiled threats would do anything to thwart his evil. Tears pooled in her eyes, as she struggled to keep them at bay.

Rodwen could barely see Legolas in front of her eyes, as if peering through a shroud. In Legolas' Elven sight though, her tears were as bright as the glitter of silver. She was unhappy that he had intervened on her behalf. He had expected Fuinron's silence to bring this young woman some relief. Instead, she was just as scared as ever.

It made him hate the man even further.

"Have I gone against your wishes?"

She sniffed, shaking her head.

"No…I've wanted some respite. I just wish that you had not confronted him. I can handle his treatment—"

Legolas cut her off, unable to hold back his anger.

"You do not need to suffer ill treatment, not from a guardian or servant or a friend. No one has the right to deride you. You need not accept vitriol from any person, regardless of how much respect you feel you need to have for them!"

She shut her eyes, sinking back against the tree.

"I'm sorry. I don't live in your world, where women are so equal to men. My father expressly wished for Fuinron to have his say over us until I marry." Her tears fell. "I wish most days that he hadn't done so, but," she felt her stomach churn, "he protects us as best he can. He never asked for children, much less daughters. So I apologize for not having the gumption of your womenfolk."

"That is _not_ what I meant," he said, getting up off the ground and dusting his leggings. "I shall not insert myself in your affairs again."

Rodwen still refused to look at him.

"I appreciate your effort." Her gut turned again. "I want to do right by my guardian, Legolas. I will find my own way."

"I heard you. Take more rest. We should leave soon."

Thoroughly humiliated and deeply disturbed by the lengths she would go through to protect such an unworthy man, she crawled back into her sheets and thought about what she had just done. He had done the right thing and now he felt like the villain for upsetting her. 'Your only advocate is lost. Why don't you just give up?' some dark part of her ridiculed her.

She lay that way until she couldn't stand the guilt and self-hatred coursing through her veins. Rodwen flung the covers away, stumbling through the darkness to find him. It was getting slightly harder to see, the later it got. She saw a shadow in the dark, in the shape of a male with broad shoulders. She ran to throw her arms around him.

"I'm sorry!" she blurted out.

At first the figure was stiff, surprised by the embrace but he turned around and kissed her on the cheek, causing her heart to flutter. As if to punish her for her fool-hardy ways, she was greeted with the polar opposite of what she wanted to hear.

"You will be," Fuinron's cold voice whispered to her.

Her arms dropped to her sides. She sat down where she stood, hiding herself from her calculating tormentor. When did he wake? Did he hear her talking to Legolas? Was this about his argument with Legolas? No matter. He couldn't hit her from this position on the ground and he had never kicked her before. She shuddered like she was covered in snow.

"Thranduilion!"

She scooted back, watching Fuinron turn his head to view this strange person. The Elf was as dark as the forest, with midnight black hair. He came out of the shadows into a perfect ray of moonlight. His eyes were azure and full of appraisal. To his side was Legolas.

"I apologize for disturbing you so, my lady. If you would be so kind as to gather your belongings, I would escort you to the hall of our Elvenking Thranduil." He shot a cutting glance towards Fuinron. "Would you mind arousing the rest of your party?"

"Of course not," Fuinron said, nodding and walking to wake up the King and Queen.

The Elf extended his hand to Rodwen, which she took. She grabbed hold and tried to still herself but her shaking did not go unnoticed.

"Do not fear. You will soon be out of the darkness," he ensured her.

"Thank you, kind sir," she said, yanking her unsteady hand away before running off.

The dark Elf leaned over to Legolas' ear.

"Is she usually so nervous?" he asked in Sindarin.

Legolas, still irritated by her confounding behavior, responded coldly in his tongue.

"As long as I have known her, it has been so. She appears to like anxiety."

His escort raised an eyebrow.

"That is unfair. I know that the edain are not like us, at least not in their ways. You should be patient with that one."

Legolas sighed.

"I shall take it under advisement."

"If I may say so, I would not trust the man."

Legolas sneered.

"I don't."

/ / / / /

Mellwen became a constant staple near Acharnon's post. She would give him the conversation that he so desperately craved during his long stints of duty. While Faramir met with important nobles during the day, his wife Éowyn sat in her room with her ladies. Faramir had requested that Acharnon give his wife plenty of attention, taking another guard captain as his protection during his meetings. Éowyn would invite them inside sometimes for refreshment but wasn't very talkative towards either. That is, until one day her curiosity overwhelmed her. She sent Faelrin outside to summon them forth.

"Sir Acharnon…Lady Mellwen, please follow me inside," she said in the most official voice that she could manage, trying to keep the hatred for Himel's brood out of her words.

The two entered and were greeted with the sight of Faelrin and her somber elder maidens (all clad in yellow) and some fair haired women from Edoras, all sitting around the room reading and playing card games. Éowyn was in the middle of a hand when Mellwen finally caught a glimpse of her. The woman was dressed all in white and long wavy hair the color of wheat. Her grey eyes were full of wonder.

"Please, come closer, young mistress," she calmly beckoned.

This woman was nothing like Lady Arwen. The Undómiel was overtly kind and, and when in good mood, very witty and jovial. This woman was serious and not easy with her affections. Mellwen stepped forward slowly, coming up close to the white lady of Emyn Arnen. From a safe distance, she bowed low.

"Hello, my lady."

"Greetings," Éowyn responded, laying her cards face down. "As a foreigner, I am not familiar with who you are but I must say that I am quite intrigued by a child who calls the Knight Commander her friend."

"Well…I am Mellwen, daughter to nobleman Himel and Lady Míria. And Sir Acharnon is my friend because he is nice to me," Mellwen looked at Faelrin, "unlike others."

Éowyn leaned over to another blonde in an immaculate grey-green dress trimmed with gold symbols. She whispered something in her ear before responding to Mellwen.

"You talk to each other for hours at a time, yet neither of you tire of what the other has to say. How is that?"

"He understands how I have been risen. He is sympathetic to my plights and I, to his. Not to mention, he is very humorous."

Éowyn's face changed again, quite serious. She leaned forward.

"You are the youngest daughter of Himel, the former Knight Commander?"

"Yes, madam," she answered, leery concerning what the Steward's wife had heard.

"Oh," Éowyn whispered. From the look on her face, Mellwen could tell that Éowyn had heard the latest gossip. Now all she would see was the lonely orphan.

"I have heard of you after all. Would you like to play a game?"

Mellwen looked over to Acharnon, who was smiling at her. He felt like an older brother, her protector amongst these horrible noble sharks. He wanted her to play with the women, but she really didn't want to leave him. It was great to have someone to talk to. Sure, he had only talked to her because he was attracted to her sister, but he had not abandoned her once he found out more about Rodwen. He cared about **her **too. He had told her about his sister. Perhaps that was why he fell so comfortably into the brotherly role.

"Of course, my lady," she said, pulling up a chair.

Éowyn's attention turned to Acharnon.

"Thank you for indulging me. You may return to your post."

Acharnon nodded in acknowledgment before walking out on her and his tiny friend.

/ / / / /

It took a day for the group to reach the part of the forest that led to the Elf-path. Until the Lady Galadriel and King Thranduil defeated the forces of Dol Guldur and drove the darkness from the forest, the pathway had been surrounded by cobwebs. Some of them still remained there, but the Elves had been diligent in tearing them down and clearing the way. Luckily, their guide knew the clear ways onto the narrow road to Thranduil's halls. His name was Daichiron, and he was a Silvan scout. He was the most proficient scout that the King could summon to aid his son's friends in their journey. He was also a very old subordinate to Legolas, a captain of Elves in his own right.

Once in the correct path, the group halted once again. This road was lit far better. The group couldn't be bothered to set up camp. Everyone rolled out a sleeping bag and laid down on the most comfortable patch of dirt that they could find. This time, the two half-Elven and Fuinron stayed up for the night's watch. Daichiron had been very explicit when telling them that the route they were on was more direct, yet still not entirely untroubled. They might need arches to kill any lingering unwelcome inhabitants in the treetops. With this in mind, the twins volunteered, in order to offer Legolas his rest. Fuinron had been unwilling to share any guard duties with the Elf for the remainder of his excursion, so he took this as his opportunity to be of service (as well as show off for his Lord and Lady).

Daichiron had also refused his rest. He could always sleep a few days later but for the sake of his prince and friend, he would watch the mortal soldier. Whilst he had been climbing through the tall trees, searching for King Elessar's party, he had heard the mortal woman apologize to him. Relieved to have found what he had been looking for for days, Daichiron had stopped and began his descent. That was when he had heard the man tell her that "she would be." He was a skilled climber, so he had hurried to find his friend after hearing that. The male had not even noticed the Elf slip past him in the darkness. When he returned with Legolas at his side, she had been on the forest floor, shaking like a leaf in the breeze. Daichiron did not know this man's relation to the girl and, frankly, did not care. However, he would not let this man bring evil here. So he watched him, because that was what he was so very skilled at.

Fortunately for Fuinron, he behaved himself to Daichiron's satisfaction. After a while of watching, he offered the man a chance to rest. Unable to deny his tire any longer, Fuinron accepted a chance to sleep, leaving Elladan and Elrohir to watch with the silent shadow. It was difficult to drum up conversation with him, due to the exhaustion that the twins felt. Their energy level had been in a steady rate of decline, already lowered due to their duel nature of being Elf and Man. Still, the group needed to keep themselves alert. Elladan spoke out.

"So, how long do you think that it will take us to reach our destination?"

Daichiron looked up from his lap, where he had been twiddling with his bowstring. His gaze was piercing and serious.

"If we travel this road, we can make it to the enchanted river by midday. After a short boat ride, we might make it to His Majesty's hall by the evening."

"Thank you."

"May I ask you about one of your travelling companions?" Daichiron asked inquisitively.

"Go ahead," Elladan invited him to continue.

"What say you about the Knight Commander, Fuinron?"

The twins looked to each other, seemingly having a conversation with only bodily gestures.

"Neither of us has much knowledge of him," Elrohir finally spoke. "However, he seems…haughty, easily angered—the man wants his say over all that happens."

"You have not known him long then?"

"No, we are near strangers," Elladan added in.

"Then you would not happen to know his relation to the young dark-haired woman?"

"You mean Lady Rodwen," Elrohir explained. "She is his ward. Why do you ask?"

Daichiron paused to piece together what he had heard thus far. A frightened ward, a frightful warden, and one awkward conversation between the two; this was strange. This man was dangerous to her. As an Elf, he couldn't fathom why any female would accept such a guardian for herself or "favor" any negative emotions. Legolas had been angry with her, perhaps because of a perceived wish to remain attached to this male. He would not tell his prince how to behave in this matter, but the woman probably was devoid of choice in her attachments. Daichiron was a naturally mistrustful and reserved ellon. To know that someone could exacerbate these traits in him made him uneasy.

"I meant nothing in asking. I was merely curious."

The tension was thick between them, causing silence to fall over them.

The group did not rouse until morning began bursting through the canopy. The watch for that night went about the camp and gently shook everyone awake. Daichiron refused to touch Fuinron though. He feared to do something unbecoming of an Elf, let alone a guide to guests in his Lord's kingdom. Neither Thranduil nor Legolas would thank him.

Elrohir shook Rodwen awake. She looked like she had a fitful night of rest. Her hair was tousled; she was sweating and curled in a ball, despite the air being far from cold. She thanked the peredhil meekly before rolling over onto her knees. She crawled over to Gwendein to wake her.

"Hmm?" Gwendein grunted, her eyes fluttering open to look at the person interrupting her sleep. "Rodwen…is it time to move?"

"Yes," Rodwen whispered, full of worry. She leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Have you brought along any suppositories?"

Gwendein shot upright, startled by Rodwen's question. This was an emergency and there was no time to wait. She quickly threw off her covers, racing over to the carts. She flung open her chests, tossing things around like a mad woman. The frantic nature of her search drew much attention. She let out an excited squeal when she realized what she was looking for was before her. She stuffed the objects inside of her corset and raced back towards Rodwen.

"Is everything well?" Gimli asked, concerned.

"It's just fine!" Gwendein shouted, a hint of worry diming her usual joy. "We're just going to freshen up!"

She grasped Rodwen by the arms and rushed away with the younger woman.

It took about fifteen minutes for the women to return, after which Rodwen immediately went to the cart to change her dress. She took her hair out and pinned it up off of her neck. She changed into her maroon dress, an unintentional nod to her current predicament. It was her only clean dress of a dark color.

Gwendein helped her friend up on a horse and then got behind her. This would be a rough morning of travel. Rodwen could use a body to lean on.

**Authoress Chat****: As always, review, review, review. Can't wait to read your lovely comments and to hear your thoughts about what's going on. Next stop? Mirkwood!**


End file.
